Adventures Of Two Khajiit
by YokamiYoake
Summary: In the land of Skyrim, home of the Nords, mammoths and cold, there is a city named Markarth with an inn called Silver Blood. It is there our story begins as two Khajiit meet again. Their tales will be known throughout the lands of Tamriel
1. A night at the bar

**Adventures of Two Khajiit**

Co-authored by me and My Friend

Disclaimer: I only own Yoake, Mi'rasj belong to my friend, and Skyrim, the locations and other characters belong to the awesome Bethesda.

 **Chapter 1: A night in the bar…**

Just across from the marketplace in Markarth, the City of Stone, lies the Silver-Blood Inn, and in that inn, there is a counter, where two Khajiit are getting quite deep in their cups. One is male, brown furred with black markings, with glinting yellow eyes and braids adorned with Elsweyr gold. He is dressed in the metal and fur of the Saviour's Hide; it's bony spikes adorns his shoulders. His boots and gauntlets are Forsworn-made, and go well with both his preference and fur.

By his side a slighter form sits, slender, with spotted honey fur that darken at her sides, pale hair pulled back from her temples, with blue eyes glowing in the gloom where they sit. Her form is shrouded in armour of black and red leather and cloth, her matching cowl is pushed back behind her ears, and her red gloves are folded into her belt. There is a faint scar across her nose.

They have met before when the male strayed too close to a giant, and again in the City of Stone when the he-cat Mi'rasj saw the female tumble from a higher landing, nearly landing on a guard.

''I told you before, and I'll say it again, I did not fall... It was clearly a rapid, controlled descent... through the air… on a... cockroach! It insulted my mother, so I jumped on it!'' The feline female hide her embarrassment behind her tankard of mead, eyes already slightly glassy.

The male laugh: ''But how does Yoake know the tongue of such vermin?'' He turns drunkenly in his seat, nearly spilling his own drink and quickly setting it down on the bar counter.

Yoake stick her nose in the air, adopting an air of superiority ''I'm clearly just that epic.'' Her pretended snobbyness only make the he-cat laugh harder. ''I'll remember not to cross blades with you then, kitten." He grins at her before continuing. '' So, what's next on our great adventure?'' He asks, half expecting her to deny any adventuring with him at all, instead, the furry female surprise him with donning as serious expression as she can while half drunk. ''…Let's go raid some ruins! And kill whatever is inside! And, if we are unlucky, we can fight a dragon...''

The male Khajiit blinks, then a grin spreads across his muzzle. ''Sounds good. The living will die, and the undead will… die again! Shall we go in loud and proud, wielding swords with zeal, or should we go sneaky, stabby, my kitten?'' Yoake ponder his words a moment. ''I'm not your kitten… But we shall go sneaky, stabby and shooty, my friend, _purrrrfect_ for Khajiit.'' She gives a drunken smile, leaning her elbow on the counter to push herself up slightly. ''Now let's go see what riches the dead… and undead… are hiding in their graves!

''Mi'rasj hopes for moonstone and sapphires, himself. But first, another mead, and some grilled chicken'' the brown furred Khajiit says, and signals Kleppr the barkeep. Yoake smile happily by his side, but has a curious look on her.

"Huh. So, your name is "Mi'rasj"? Like the desert illusions, yes? Tell me, what is a desert-cat doing in Skyrim?"

Mi'rasj scratches his ear. "Adventure! Mir comes from the desert town of Riverhold, with its beef-and-radish filled pastries... mmm..." Mi'rasj looks dreamily into the hearth. "Well, Mir left... uhm... four years ago, yes. He went straight east, to Cyrodiil and the town of Bravil. He didn't stay long. After that, he went north, to the Imperial City. Mi'rasj knew he had to go there when he saw the legendary White-Gold Tower in the distance." Mi'rasj took a swig of his tankard.

Yoake had listened with gusto. It was new to hear the story of another well-travelled Khajiit. She had not had time to chat with any of the caravan members. "Yes, then?"

"Mir slept where he could, on roofs, in bushes, in barrels... after a while, he found out what he should do to earn coin: teaching... "resourceful" adventurers how to jump higher, run further, fight with their hands, pick locks and move unseen. Mir can tell you, the locks in Skyrim are... ridiculously easy. Nothing like the locks in Cyrodiil! Ah, thank you, Kleppr! Anyway, one night he slept at the waterfront. He shouldn't have. Someone took all his coin. Probably a _lizard_.

Broke and hungry, Mir stole an apple. He got caught, served his sentence and got out. When a prisoner without a septim to their name is released, they are given 300 septims to take care of immediate things, like food, water, and shelter. Mir bought the first two, then went north towards Bruma. He took the short route, though, across lake Rumare. Saved him a lot of steps." Yoake grinned at " _lizard_ ".

Most Khajiits and Argonians no longer see eye to eye because of the Knahaten Flu, which killed thousands of Khajiit in 2E 560. The Flu began in Black Marsh. The Khajiit naturally blamed the Argonians, the Argonians claimed they were innocent, and were offended by the idea that they had created the disease to kill Khajiit.

"How was Bruma? Cold?" "Mi'rasj did not visit Bruma city. He kept going for the Serpent's Trail. But yes, the cold was... awful! Mir was afraid he might lose his toes, fingers, or tail! Or all of them...

Well, Mir went through the Trail, and over the beautiful Pale Pass. He accidentally caused an avalanche while taking a shortcut... but no matter! Now he's here. And lucky enough to find another Khajiit so far from Elsweyr! So, what is this one's story?" he asks, nibbling on the chicken.

"My story? Tell you what, Mir. My story is a lot like a minotaur's tongue: long and messy. When the time is right, you will hear it... Oh, and killing the Frostbite spiders will be your job…''

Yoake says this with a crooked grin. She then waves her hand at the barkeep. "Kleppr! Some proper mead for me! I'll take a Black Briar. And some horker meat." "Hn! You will support that foul Maven Black-Briar with that coin, you know!'' the he-cat frowns. "Mi'rasj also doubt you will be able to shoot straight after drinking that stuff, so leaving the archery to him is a wise choice. But we should not stay the night in Markarth, these stone "beds" are torture for our sleek, wiry bodies.''

Yoake twist her tankard between her clawed hands ''Maven is a scary lady… I just don't want to give her cause to go after me… or the guild… or the Brotherhood…'' Her head turn, eyes surprisingly sharp for the mead she has drunk. ''And watch it, stray… I can outshoot you any day! Also, I only have problems when the spiders are the size of my horse.'' Her look turn confused as she tilts her head ''And what do you mean, "stone beds? We are staying at my house, not at the Inn…''

Mi'rasj snaps his head up, straightening as best he can on the stool, his voice a growl as his long tail lash behind him. ''Be careful who Yoake calls a stray, minx! Mi'rasj will kill the spiders… _despite his fear of them.._." The last part is murmured into his cup. "...But if she is not more careful with her remarks, she could find herself without Mir's arcane flames for protection and comfort! …speaking of comfort, where is Yoake's house? After that giant clubbed Mir, his topography has gotten a few holes in it, heh"

The she-cat narrow her blue eyes, tail swishing dangerously. ''Cub… I am the Listener of the Night Mother, the assassin who killed the Emperor. I am part of the Thieves Guild, and just because I don't often use them, that don't mean I don't have arcane gifts of my own. I am Thane of this city, so my house is Vlindrel Hall, that overlook the whole of Markarth,'' She roll her eyes with a snort ''and anyone's topography would have holes in it after being launched into the sky.''

Despise being bigger, broader and stronger than the lithe female, Mi'rasj shrink before her, ears flattening against his head as he curls his tail under him. ''Mi'rasj meant no disrespect, my Den-Mother…'' He swallows nervously, but perk up slightly when he sees Yoake's face soften. He takes a sip of mead. ''As Mir was hurled towards our beloved Masser and Secunda, he felt a strange urge to say 'Hús-tòn, we have a problem'. Must have been the fingers of Sheggorath reaching the delicate ears of Mi'rasj.''

Straightening enough to lean back against the bar counter, the male ponders out loud ''Vlindrel Hall have proper beds, Mir recalls from the one time he was there… while it was unoccupied, of course. But Arvak will occupy the housecarl's bed, and the only other one is the bed in the master- erhm... _mistress_ bedroom. Do this one imply we are to... _share_?'' He cast a wicked grin at Yoake at the question, getting only a deadpan look in return.

With a sigh, the young she-cat reach out and scratch her companion behind one ear, ''Calm down, friend. This one is only joking… mostly. And what do you mean "Arvak" will sleep in the bed? Your skeletal horse is sleeping in the stables, not in my house… I'm going to assume one meant "Argis" and take the fact that you got them mixed together as proof that you have had enough mead.'' Using the skill of a sneak thief, Yoake stealthily snatch the male's drinking cup from the counter. The brown furred Khajiit doesn't notice, busy staring unfocused into the air, pondering. ''Mi'rasj wonder if our steeds will fare well in cold out there. Granted, they are both other-worldly, but still…'' he reaches for his tankard, which is nowhere to be found. "…hey, has this one seen the mead?''

Yoake rise her head slightly from where it rests on her folded arms on the counter, sarcasm in her voice ''You puffed it away with your amazing powers... It's just as well, this one thinks it's time for bed,'' Trying to stand, she stumbles back, nearly falling on her tail, ''how much do we owe you, Kleppr?''

''Careful there, kitten, one think the mead was more potent than we anticipated.'' Mi'rasj tries not to laugh as he slings one of Yoakes arms over his shoulder, trying not to stumble himself. Placing 30 septims on the bar each, they make for the door, and Vlindrel Hall, with the male in the lead.

Finally arriving at the door, the brown Khajiit rouses the female in his arms, so she can unlock the door. ''Ahhhh, here we are… why are there so many stairs in this place… Hey, could you unlock the door for us?'' The answer come in a confused voice and puzzled eyes, ''Mir… this isn't my house… These are the wrong stairs…'' Blinking, the male look around in mild embarrassment, catching sight of the plaque beside the door. ''Oh... this is the house of Nepos the Nose. Heh. Well… back to the stairs we go then...'' Turning and walking back the way they came, he can't help laughing at the tipsy song coming from Yoake:

''Two drunk Khajiit walking up the stairs… the stairs… the stairs. And we're not falling down, and we're not stumbling off... the stairs…the stairs…the…'' Looking around in bewilderment ''Um… where are we…?'' The male cast his eyes about, equally lost in the labyrinthic city. "It…seems we're outside the Temple of Dibella.'' he exclaims when he sees a building he recognize. Grinning down at the golden furred feline he continues. ''It would appear Yoake's singing distracted Mi'rasj.''

''Let's… find the marketplace. My house should be just up and to the right from there. Then again... the Inn is just beside the market…'' Straightening beside Mi'rasj, the female points in the general direction of the entrance where the market is located during the day. Tripping over their own feet somewhat, the two cats make their way through the quiet city and the night, reaching the point where they started, and begin on the stairs again. This time, Yoake is more lucid, and manage to point them up the correct set of stairs.

At long last, the metal doors of Vlindrel Hall stand before them, and on the other side, a narrow hallway, a large living room, a smaller sitting room and finally the bedroom with it's soft, warm bed. Stumbling into the room, and more falling than sitting on said bed, Yoake start to tug on her boots, dropping them beside the bed with her gloves, cowl and a rather impressive assortment of pointy objects she had been concealing on her person. As Mi'rasj sits down on the other side of the king-sized bed, she tilts her head, looking distantly out into the sitting room.

''Why doesn't my bedroom have any doors…? A bedroom should have a door…or something…'' Falling back on the bed, dragging herself up to the pillows she glares at the male beside her with one blue eye, ''…and Mir… if you _ever_ let me… drink that much again, I will do something terrible to you. Like… hiding itching powder in strange places… and making sure it only affects you.'' Her threat delivered, the she-cat closes her eyes, and still dressed in her ancient shrouded armour, falls asleep completely ignorant to the male's stare.

Mi'rasj sits on the edge of the bed for a while, contemplating, thinking to himself "Strange places? Near you, or _in_ you? Heheh."

He then takes off his Forsworn boots and gauntlets, slides Saviour's Hide over his head, and throws his armour in the corner, next to his dusty canvas haversack containing his nomadic life. Now in nothing but his loincloth, he crawls under the blanket and falls quick asleep, as a bellyful of mead will often make you do.


	2. The game is afoot Or a leg

**Adventures of Two Khajiit**

Co-authored by me and My Friend

Disclaimer: We still don't own Skyrim... unfortunately

 **Chapter 2: The game is afoot. Or all manner of severed limbs!**

The following morning Yoake wakes up feeling rather groggy. She slowly opens her eyes to find Mi'rasj having snatched the blanket for himself, and apparently tried to mimic the bandaging ritual of a Draugr in his sleep. Thinking to herself "He's gonna have fun when he wakes up... _and_ I slept in my armour. Great.", she silently laughs as she gets up, grabs shrouded robes from the wardrobe, then pads to the bathtub made of carved wood. Argis has been so kind to boil a generous amount of water and prepare a bath for his Thane before he went back to his quarters for breakfast.

Meanwhile, Mi'rasj is still sleeping soundly, unaware of the spectacle that takes place just a few fathoms away. After a while, he senses that his tail is cold. "Humph, fires are out. Must be morning", he reasons.

Then his keen Khajiit ears pick up the movement of water in a nearby tub. Mi'rasj slowly opens his topaz eyes. Yoake is nowhere to be seen. The dazed Khajiit tries to scratch his ear, but his arm, as well as the rest of his body, is thoroughly entangled into the blanket.

"Did Mi'rasj or the minx do this...?", he wonders.

While he ponders, Yoake emerges from the bath, clad in her shrouded robes. Smiling, she answers the unspoken question:

"You did that all on your own, friend... I'm actually quite impressed!"

She then strolls over to the kitchen, telling the struggling Khajiit over her shoulder that there will be food then he gets free and dressed.

"We also have to plan what ruin to raid.", she says, while preparing breakfast. The promise of food make Mi'rasj redouble his efforts, which pays off. He manages to break free of his bondage, and sits up at the edge of the bed.

Feeling the cold of the stone floor on his hind-paws urges him to act. He stands up, stretches, and walks with heavy steps towards the corner where his armour and haversack is laying. He puts on Saviour's Hide, and his boot and gauntlets, then heads out into the kitchen area.

"What is to be expected on this fine morning?", he asks. "Elsweyr Fondue?"

Yoake look up from the suspended casserole over the fire she is leaning over, her blue eyes laughing at Mi'rasj' bed fur, his hair being a total disaster. Mi'rasj catches onto this. Smiling, he licks the palm of his hand and slides it over his head, realigning the braids that were the most astray. He then seats himself at the table, studying the unfolded map that is rolled out across it.

"No, sadly I don't have the spices for that... they are hard to get in this cold land. So, we will have to make due with common stew."

"Pity. Mi'rasj hope it has some salmon in it... Shall we have a go at Kolskeggr Mine, and then move towards Falkreath? Mir must say, he longs for the warm, lush forests there.''

Yoake approaches the table with two steaming bowls of stew in her hands. The smell is divine! She puts down a bowl in front of the starving Mi'rasj, then sits down at the table across from him.

"That sounds good. After that we could head towards Dawnstar. I got a... job... I have completed. No salmon in the stew, sorry, but there is plenty of meat and bacon", she says to the he-cat, who's bowl is already half-empty.

"Mfh, this one hears the voice of the Mother of Night? Mh, Dawnstar is directly north from Whiterun, no? Perhaps we could pay Balgruuf a visit. Mir can distract him while Yoake raids his armoury... and pantry!"

"Yes... I most certainly do. She is calling me, her faithful Listener, back to her to give me another contract..." Yoake's eyes become unfocused for an instant. "M-yes. Good idea! It's been a while since I went on a proper pantry raid. But first, Kolskeggr Mine. Let's see what treasures we can dig up!"

Mi'rasj scratches his ear, trying to remember what he has heard and read about Kolskeggr. "Yes... it is infested by Forsworn of all ranks. Remember: aim for the "heart" of the Briarhearts with your weapons or spells. More damage is done to them is you strike their new heart.

There is also a lot of gold there, over 15 deposits, he has heard. Mi'rasj is certain we will find a conveniently placed pickaxe to mine with... or swing in someone's eye."

Yoake smiles, finishing her bowl of stew. "Did you know a good sneak thief can steal a Briarheart's heart? Do that, and they fall over dead... and there is always a convenient pickaxe or two in mines!", she says, as she goes back to the bedroom to put on her ancient shrouded armour, and collecting her impressive weapons on the way.

Mi'rasj nods, and stand up, patting his belly. The warm stew did wonders for his head. Until it had arrived in his stomach, it had felt as if there was a Dwemer Centurion angrily swinging its hammer inside his skull, oblivion-bent on causing damage.

"Mi'rasj do know that. Doing so, means one would have to get close to both the victim and their kin, all armed to their teeth! Mir prefers staying in the shadows, unseen and unheard, the only sign of his presence being the arrows the heads of his victims... Remember to bring the Blade of Woe, Yoake! And some Soul Gems to claim their souls with! This lot deserves it!"

"What is the point of being a good thief if you can't steal someone's heart?", Yoake muses while heading over to the pantry for supplies.

"...but it is indeed very fun to shoot enemies from dark corners, and watch as their kin run around in confusion, not knowing where the danger is. And I will bring my Blade of Woe, as well as Dawnbreaker. Do you think I should bring my Daedric arrows, or will it be enough with just glass and ebony?

Mi'rasj is unsure whether his own heart has been stolen or not.

"Yes, the guiding light of Dawnbreaker will be useful if we are forced into unforeseen battle. But do not waste rare Daedric arrows on petty humans! No, save those arrows for the large threats: Giants, Mammoths, Dwemer Centuri and dragons! We are sure to face a few on our way to Dawnstar."

Yoake replies from the depths of the pantry shelves, head bobbing up and down looking for useful things one might need.

"Let's avoid the Giants this time, shall we? You don't need another trip to Masser... or Secunda! And we should be careful when in Falkreath... at least **I** should... I don't think anyone saw me, but better safe than in jail..." the last part of her reply is spoken under her breath, but Mi'rasj' keen Khajiit ears pick it up nonetheless. "Do you need any potions of some kind?", she continues.

"Agreed", he says, as he tightens the straps and buckles of his armour, boots and gauntlets. "We Khajiit can outrun those brutes when we have to. Hmm, Mi'rasj only need a healing potion of two, to drink right before he dies. He already has other... "potions" he may need... wait! Is Yoake referring to the escape of Sinding? Or did she do something stupid on the side?"

Yoake stops searching for a while, and tries to find right the words.

"...I may or may not have assassinated the Jarl's housecarl..."

"Hhhh... contract or pleasure?"

Yoake turns and looks at Mi'rasj with a deadpan look.

"Contract of course! Do you think me a murderer?!"

Mi'rasj raise his hands in reassurance.

"No, relax, there is no need to fluff your tail! Accidents happen. Could have been that the arrow that missed the dragon found the housecarl instead. But it is good to know Yoake does not murder everyone... like that... _Cicero_ once did." There is underlying anger in the jester's name, triggering Yoake's curiosity.

She recollects herself. "Being an assassin is fun, but I try not to kill anyone except the target if I can. I snuck into his room while everyone was sleeping, and slit his throat. Of course, when one is in a ruin, mine or tomb, and stuff is trying to kill you... then it's another matter entirely... and that clown was mad. I'm glad I killed him."

Having gathered what she needs, she steps away from the pantry, and towards the main door, with a roomy bag over her shoulder.

"Ready to go, my friend?"

Mi'rasj is almost set, answering as he heads back to the mistress bedroom for his haversack. " **You** killed the crazy jester? Good! Mi'rasj thinks Cicero could hug someone with one arm, while stabbing them with the other. Mir met him north of Whiterun, outside the Loreius farm, when he was walking to Dawnstar..." The cat sits on the kitchen table, his eyes unfocused, his mind distant.

"A wheel on the wagon the jester was on had broken off. He asked Mi'rasj to enlist the help of a nearby farmer, Loreius. The whole thing smelled rotten fish, so Mir notified a nearby guard of the situation. But when he came back from Dawnstar, both Loreius and his wife had been slain during the night. The guard said they had been stabbed so many times, one could not count! Undoubtedly the work of the crazy jester. Mir did not see him again. But now he knows justice has been served. Well done, kitten!

Eh... but to answer the rest, innocents need not die, Mi'rasj agrees. Yes, in a ruin, mine or tomb, it is self-defence. Kill or be killed. Alright, Mi'rasj is ready. To the stables we go, then!"

"To the stables, INDEED!" Yoake exclaims dramatically, and delivers a kick to the main door, intent on dramatically throwing it wide open. As her foot connects, Yoake rebound and falls on her tail, while Mi'rasj can barely breathe because of his hysterical laughing.

"Asj, ARGIS! From now on, unlock the door when you hear me wake up!" Yoake is both angry, embarrassed, and laughing.

A steady "Yes, my Thane!" can be heard from Argis' quarters.

Mi'rasj goes through the amusing, overly-illustrative gesture of slowly grabbing the small metal bar, and turning it against the clock. A mechanical "click" is heard, and the door can now be opened without a hitch. "Want to try again?" he says while extending a helping hand, with a grin on his face the Cheshire Cat of Elsweyr legends would envy. Yoake sighs and takes his hand. After being helped on her feet, she straightens her armour and hair, and bellows "To the stables, INDEED!" while giving the door a kick she feels it deserves.


	3. A mine, and a lot of Forsworn

**Adventures of Two Khajiit**

Co-authored by me and My Friend

Disclaimer: You know the drill, we don't own Skyrim

 **Chapter 3: A mine, and a lot of Forsworn**

Stepping out on the landing a few feet from her door, Yoake look over the railing. Directly under them are another set of stairs and under that, the market place, the canvas cover of the jeweller's booth flaps slightly in the breeze. The Khajiit look at Mi'rasj over her shoulder, smirk on her face.

''I dare you to jump down!'' She says with a twinkle in her eyes and challenge in her tone. The male narrow his own golden eyes thoughtfully as he walks to railing beside the female, judging the distance down. The sun is warm and welcoming, and the wind is rustling playfully through Mi'rasj' braids. ''Challenge accepted!'' he says.

With a deftness and elegance only matched by another well-bred Khajiit, he jumps, flips and spins before landing safely on all fours on the jeweller's tent-roof. Looking back up at the dark clad she-cat, he smiles ''Now it's this one's turn!'' he shouts, a hint of arrogance in his voice.

Back up at the landing, Yoake simply arc an eyebrow, turn around and backflip over the railing, landing on her feet on the staircase below, before eminently flipping back to push of the edge on the stairs with her hands, twisting in the air to land beside the wide-eyed jeweller, a smug smile in her face. ''Like that?'' She laughs, sauntering towards the huge entrance doors.

Although she cannot see it, Mi'rasj is grinning from ear to ear, watching the woman walk. ''Like that'' he says to himself as he tosses the cross-armed, frowning jeweller a septim for the dirty boot prints on his roof, and head after Yoake. As they approach the stables, Shadowmere and Arvak both raise their heads, happy to see their masters and eager to get going.

''I can hear you grinning, Mir!'' She smiles over her shoulder as she saddles the huge red-eyed stallion with the swiftness of long practice, ''Now get your tail in gear, and your eyes of mine, so we have a chance of reaching the mine before nightfall.''

Quickly averting his eyes from the furry pendulum they were fixed upon, the brown Khajiit thank the gods fur work well for hiding blushing. ''Mi'rasj suppose Yoake can see tastes and hear colours as well?'' He says in an attempt to counter the quip, as he lets Arvak sniff his hand with his skeletal snout.

Elegantly swinging on up Shadowmere's back, Yoake nudge the horse into a slow walk. ''No, I can't, though I have heard it's possible with an herb called catnip… Anyway, you are male, my fine feline friend, and males work the same regardless of species!'' The she-cat laugh as she rides past Mi'rasj, flicking her tail under his nose.

Mi'rasj stand with his hands on Arvak, having been preparing to jump up. After sneezing from the sensation of Yoake's tail on his nose, he stares stupefied after the dark rider heading down the road. A smile slowly appears on his face. ''Well, at least she acknowledges Mi'rasj' gender… that's a start...''. Smiling, he flexes his legs and jump onto his skeletal horse's back, and hurries after Yoake and Shadowmere.

Already at the bridge, the golden furred feline wait for Mi'rasj to catch up. ''What took you so long? Daydreams?'' kicking the stallion into a light gallop over the bridge as Arvak draws up beside them, ''By the way, have one ever thought of using a saddle? Your horse is quite bony… I can't imagine sitting on the spine being very… ehem… comfortable for you''

''Hm? Ah, yes, daydreams, one could call it that...'' Clearing his throat, the male raises his voice to be heard over the thundering hooves, ''A saddle? No, just in the way of rapid dismounting when a dragon comes swooping with its claws and fangs and breath. Mi'rasj likes to keep things simple. Arvak is bony, true, but willpower defeat pain!'' He would have been convincing had it not been for his subtle wince and quiet ''meowch''.

Thundering through the narrow mountain valley, they slow as they near Kolskeggr Mine, and see the Forsworn archers and sword-wielders that are guarding the entrance. The day has already started to darken between the mountains, and Khajiit eyes are sharper than humans, so the guards are not yet aware of the two cats, though they soon will be...

Stopping a distance away from the mine, Yoake and Mi'rasj lead their horses off the road, to a place they will not be so easily seen. Spinning her fire enchanted ebony bow from its place on her back, Yoake grin wickedly at her companion. ''Sneak around and snipe them?'' Turning to her beast, she draws an apple from the saddlebags, holding it out to for Shadowmere to munch. ''Wait here, old friend, all right?''

His ears pricked forward and eyes alert, Mi'rasj answer her grin with his own. ''Yes. We start with the Forsworn on the edge of the camp. One after one, we close in on the middle, never letting them know where we are. Quick and easy.'' Drawing his own paralysing imperial bow, he pets his own horse on its bony nose. ''Arvak, stay here with Shadowmere.'' Turing to the she-cat, he gives a small showy bow. ''Ready, minx?''

With a laugh, Yoake give an equally showy courtesy, she draws her cowl up and melt into the shadows, sneaking silently in the direction of the mine. ''More than ready, partner.'' Nocking a Dwemer arrow on the bowstring, she nests into a dark corner near some rocks above the mine entrance. ''I start from the left and you from the right?'' Her voice is a murmur from the shadows, impossible to hear for anyone that is not a Khajiit.

''Agreed. May fortune smile upon us'', the he-cat murmur back equally quiet from his own hiding spot, as they both take aim. One by one their arrows fly, one by one their enemies fall. Those not yet dead run around in increasing panic as they are unable to find their attackers.

One get hit in the head, and die engulfed in flames as he turns unknowingly toward the Khajiit's hiding place. ''Fortune favours the bold…'' Yoake laugh silently in the shadows, fangs glinting in the remnants of daylight as the she watches the remaining Forsworn run around like panicked ants. Deciding to have some fun, she slips down the rocks unseen, exchanging her bow for the Blade of Woe at her side.

There is only one Forsworn left, spinning in a frightened circle at the edge of the camp. Mi'rasj ready an arrow, drawing back the string slowly. But before he can shoot, the man drops dead, his throat slit. In his place, Yoake stands, only her muzzle visible under the shade of her cowl and blood covered blade in her hand. ''That was fun.'' She grins up at Mi'rasj' surprised face, ''Shall we go inside, my friend?''

Jumping down from the rocks to help Yoake go through the dead men's pockets, Mi'rasj pout at her. ''Mir only got to shoot 4… Yoake stole most of the fun!'' The feline woman only laughs, straightening from taking an arrow out from a Forsworn. ''You just have to get quicker on the draw, my friend. But the first group inside is yours… unless you want help'' Spinning her blades expertly before sheathing them, Yoake smile crookedly at Mi'rasj from where she leans against the wall outside the mine doors, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Huffing silently, the male pad over to his waiting companion while scratching his ear. ''If Mi'rasj needs help, he will signal. Stay close, minx.'' Pushing open the flimsy wooden doors, he leads them into the darkness of the twisting mine shaft.

''Then I will simply watch from the shadows… if your fighting is worth watching.'' the female winks at Mi'rasj from the darkness at his side, her voice teasing as they around a corner and the tunnel empty out into a room. A small group of 4 Forsworn, including a Briarheart, sit around a fire, eating their dinner. Tilting her head as Mi'rasj prepare to attack, Yoake settle comfortable into the shadows to watch.

Mi'rasj crouch-walk to the corner of the entrance tunnel. From here he has full view of the group's surroundings. He slides his haversack off his shoulder, readies his imperial bow, nocks a deadly 2-pronged Forsworn arrow, draws, and releases. The arrow goes in the back of the head of the Forsworn that was unfortunate enough to have his back towards the lethal cat.

Immediately after releasing, before the arrow strikes, by using the lightning-fast reflexes of a focused Khajiit, Mi'rasj readies a frenzy spell. A split second after the arrow hits, a red ball of magical energy is heading towards the Briarheart of the group.

The energy connects, and in the fleeting moment when his kin starts to realize what has happened, the Briarheart is forced into a fit of uncontrolled and unrestrained rage! He roars a blood-freezing battle cry, and kicks the closest Forsworn into the fire, setting his fur-composed clothes ablaze instantly. His comrades are struck with surprise, and have no time to react when the Briarheart quickly use his sword to cleave open the throat of a stunned Forsworn. The final "innocent" Forsworn has time to react, but defending yourself against such rampant fury is futile, something he quickly finds out. His life ends abruptly, as the Briarheart thrusts his foul sword into the abdomen, and up into the chest cavity of his latest victim.

Unfortunately, the Forsworn that is now feeling the scorching heat of fire, still has enough vigour to try to run away! He screams while he runs for the exit, and towards the two Khajiit! In a few short leaps, the Briarheart caught up with his fiery kin, and severed his spine. However, the Khajiit are now illuminated by the burning of the man's clothes and flesh, and are concealed by the shadows no more! The still-frenzied Briarheart approaches rapidly, with bloodlust in his eyes.

Mi'rasj rapidly taps Yoake's foot with his tail, signalling it is time for a battle he cannot win alone. The she-cat grins and charges with Dawnbreaker with her right hand, and the Blade of Woe in her left.

Mi'rasj follows suit, drawing his Skyforged Nord Hero sword enchanted to absorb both health and stamina.

A fierce battle between the 2 agile Khajiit and the berserk Briarheart ensues.

The enraged Forsworn fights ferociously, showing no signs of tiring.

He keeps the two nimble Khajiit at bay, forcing them to duck and dodge to avoid getting disembowelled. Yoake is Mi'rasj both know all too well that they cannot win against a Briarheart in a contest of strength or stamina. But using wits and teamwork, they may have a chance! Yoake catches Mi'rasj' eye for a moment, signalling that she will absorb their foe's attack, so Mi'rasj may get a shot at the unnatural being's back.

Mi'rasj catches on Yoake's intentions, and in a flurry of both coordination and cooperation, the Khajiit manages to stab his sword into the Briarheart between the ribs of his back, through the magical flower empowering him, and out of his chest in a mighty scream and a fountain of blood! The cats are victorious!

Yoake was unfortunate enough to get the blood fountain straight in her face. She looks at Mi'rasj over the corpse of the Briarheart. "Well, that was fun... shall we find some more and do it again?"

Grinning through the mask of blood, she sheathes her blades. Mi'rasj puts his sword back in his belt, then squats and goes through the Briarheart's pouches. Yoake saw he found something, but she could not see what. The he-cat looks up, tilts his head and laughs.

"Hehe, this one looks good in red! But yes, we should push on, and finish what we have started. Our enemies will not expect such a rapid assault... when we are done, we will both probably be as red as snowberries!"

"Ugh... sticky... sounds good, although I would like to wash first. I want to get this blood out of my fur before it hardens."

The he-cat smiles: "Mi'rasj though this one was used to sticky situations..." "Not this kind of sticky!" "...well, there is the river outside, but that may have been swarmed by Forsworn reinforcements, waiting for us. We should go deeper. Unless... you will settle for... spit."

"Lick me and you lose your tongue... but I guess you could help me get this stuff off when we get home... IF you behave!"

Mi'rasj approaches slowly, tilting his head. "So, this one is saying that Mi'rasj has permission to lick you... under the right circumstances?"

"Mi'rasj... I'm covered in Briarheart blood, now is not the time for flirting... and I'm stating MAYBE, under the right circumstances, IF you behave!" Yoake give her partner an annoyed look as she tries to wipe off as much blood as possible with a rag.

The he-cat approaches, extending his palms. In his right hand is a small, flawless topaz, golden like his eyes, and in his left, is a small, flawless sapphire, blue like the eyes of the Khajiit he is watching intently. "Fleabag found this on the Briarheart. Pick one... heh, it's not a trick.", he smiles. Yoake takes the topaz. "Now you'll always have an eye on me, eh?", she says. The he-cat nods. "Heh. 'Gzalzi vaberzarita maaszi': absurdity has become necessity. Mir will wait for the opportunity to 'fusozay var var': enjoy life."

The female is perplexed. "What?"

"Those are Khajiiti expressions, my dear. From the great book 'Ahzirr Traajijazeri', that Mi'rasj follows. Great words to live by and die by. It is too bad this one has not heard of this book."

"Hmm... it sounds familiar... but I find so many books, I can't remember them all. And some I'd rather forget exist."

"Ah, like 'The Lusty Argonian Maid'? Or 'The Sultry Argonian Bard'? Hahah!" Yoake give Mi'rasj a tap on the arm. "Yes, those books! Filthy, filthy writing! What kind of individuals read those, anyway? Never speak of them again, please!" "As this one wishes.", Mi'rasj says, while going back to the tunnel corner for his haversack.

The two Khajiit push on, and start to feel tired. After Yoake stabs a Forsworn in the back, they pause for a bit. "We have been tense for quite some time now..." Yoake says. "...and we travelled a fair distance before that. What say you we find somewhere to rest until morning? ...even if all this blood is going to be worse then.", mumbling the last part to herself.

"Indeed, we have. Mir agrees. We should find the sleeping area of these vermin. The Forsworn make comfy bedrolls using the pelts of the animals they kill... Khajiit hopefully not among them!"

After a while, they reach the sleeping quarters of the Forsworn-occupied mine. They check the neighbouring rooms for enemies. There is a supply room full of barrels, a break room/mess hall with tables and chairs, and a narrow tunnel onwards. The supply room is occupied by a female Forsworn shaman, who is going through the inventories and writing down their contents on a piece of paper. Next to her, leaning on a barrel, is a strange, metallic staff with 3 faces in various expressions encircling the tip. Mi'rasj draws the iron knife he found in the mess hall, and throws it in the back of the head of the shaman, killing her instantly.

Their vicinity is free of malevolent beings, for now. Mi'rasj goes over the paper note the shaman was scribbling. Rather uninteresting, the barrels are mostly full of construction materials like nails, fittings and hinges. He grabs the staff, and uses his nose to find Yoake. She is sitting on a bedroll in the sleeping quarters, having unequipped her ancient shrouded armour, and is now clad in black, snug leather pants, and a grey linen tunic. She tilts her head when she sees the staff Mi'rasj is holding. "Oooh, give it here!" He smiles, and hands it to her, and her clawed fingers study the strange staff carefully.

Mi'rasj unequips his Forsworn gauntlets, and sits down on a rickety wooden chair, and pulls off his boots. "These bedrolls sure look inviting..." he says with a tired smile. He pulls a pair of dirty canvas trousers out of his haversack, and puts them on, before sliding Saviour's Hide over his head. He places the armour by his weapons next to his haversack, and sits down cross-legged at the bedroll. The he-cat smiles as he watches Yoake's expression, one of utmost fascination.

His lean, wiry torso is shivering with anticipation. "What can Yoake make of it?" he asks, tilting his head. "Is it restoration? Destruction? Alteration? Illusion?" Mi'rasj fondles the sapphire, his tail slowly moving about.

Yoake takes a break in analysing the staff, making sure her weapons can be reached easily from her bedroll, before reaching into her bag for some dried meat and a small water skin. "All of them... or neither. I can't be sure until I test it on someone..." Yoake's eyes narrow, mouth pursing in a mischievous smile. Mi'rasj smile nervously at this development, and raises his hand. "There was a chicken in the supply room!", he says, pointing to draw her attention away from himself.

"Excellent! Let's go!" Yoake leaves the meat and water skin at her side and leaps up, heading towards the supply room with Mi'rasj in tow. "Hn, those leather pants look good on her..." he thinks to himself, nearly bumping into the female feline when she abruptly stops when spying the scared chicken. "Alright, chicken! How would you like to be my lab-rat?" she says, leaning forward and adopting a rather amusing, wide-legged stance, pointing the staff at the hapless egg layer. A 'ba-gerk' breaks the silence, and the staff hurls forward a small ball of red energy, not unlike that of a frenzy spell. When it connects, however, the chicken is transformed into a cheese wheel!

Both Khajiit stare at the block of cheese with wide eyes and open mouths. Mi'rasj scratches his ear, and is the first to break the silence.

"Ehh, it's been a long, arduous day. The cheese from _that_ will certainly **not** be this one's supper! Let's head back to the bedrolls, okay?"

Yoake nods, before walking over to the wheel, and carves it up with the iron knife she pulled out of the head of the shaman. "At least now we don't have to worry about the cheese wheel coming to life or something!", a nervous laughter emerges. "I wonder how you would look as a chicken..." "Very funny.", Mi'rasj say as they go back to the sleeping quarters. "Yoake is not on skooma or catnip, is she? Ah," points at the water skin "this one had water to wash with! But then, why did she ask for oral assistance earlier in the mine?" Mi'rasj frown as he sits back down on his bedroll, eagerly awaiting Yoake's reply.

"I'm not on anything unless sarcasm counts. And that water is for drinking, not washing. I only have one, and I don't want to waste it. Hey, I didn't **ask** for "oral assistance", I asked if you knew a way to get the blood, which I am still covered in by the way" She whacks the staff on Mi'rasj' head.

"Omfh!" Mi'rasj rubs his head, and scratches his ear. He holds his palms up towards Yoake, as if pleading. "Alright! Maybe Yoake did not ask, but she _hinted_ at the _possibility_ if Mi'rasj was well behaved!" He folds his hands, and continue: "This Khajiit may be the most well behaved Khajiit in all of Skyrim! Granted, there are only around 10 others, but still! And Mir do know of a way to get the blood off you. Carefully and delicate... he thinks this one already knows the idea."

Yoake looks at the male across from her. "... I think you and I have different definitions of what it means to be well behaved..." She crawls into her bedroll, closing one clawed hand around the hilt of the Blade of Woe. "Now go to sleep, kitty cat... besides, I'm pretty sure Briarheart blood is poisonous if you ingest it."

"Heh. We cannot be similar in _all_ aspects, Yoake. But yes, Briarheart blood would be bad for you... fortunately, Mir possesses an antidote, made from a briar heart seed, dust from a vampire and feathers from a hawk. He is not completely useless in alchemy."

The tired feline open her eyes to look at Mi'rasj. "I know you're not totally useless... but you are _not_ licking me tonight, so quit flirting and go to sleep, kitten." Yoake close her eyes, and snuggle deeper into the pelts, the Blade still in her grasp.

Mi'rasj sighs, but have a sentimental look on his face. "Very well. If uninterrupted sleep is what this one wants, then Mi'rasj will comply. Good night, minx. May this one dream of warm sands." After delivering his comforts, Mi'rasj crawls into his own bedroll.

"Warm sands and deep jungles in your dreams as well, Mir", Yoake replies. She falls asleep with a smile on her lips and Mi'rasj' soft breathing in her ears. That night her dreams carry her to the far-away lands of Elsweyr, filling her with a warm, happy sensation when she wakes up.


	4. Anywhere but here!

**Adventures of Two Khajiit**

Co-authored by me and My Friend

Disclaimer: ...We still only own Yoake an Mi'rasj...

 **Chapter 4: Anywhere but here!**

The next morning, Yoake wakes up curled into a ball under the fur of the bedroll, only the tip of her ears poking out, to the sounds of Mi'rasj trying to quietly put on his armour and gear. Shifting enough for her to see without being seen, she covertly watches the slender male.

Mi'rasj is sitting with his back towards the spying female, not knowing he is being watched. He is bending to put on his Forsworn boots. When they are securely fastened, he stands up and stretches upwards, curling his tail, clenching his muscular calves, and thighs, and leaning his back and torso slightly backwards as he flattens his ears and raises his arms. Yoake blushes at the sight of Mi'rasj' body on display for her like this. Wearing only boots and loincloth, he is certainly a sight to behold, and a fine example of his species.

When Mi'rasj bends over to pick up his armour, Yoake got a sublime view of his posterior, and felt a jolt of energy course through her, that made her blush and feel uneasy and peculiar.

Mi'rasj lifts his Saviour's Hide over his head, and slides it over himself. When his behind is covered, Yoake's emotions begins to fade, much to her relief.

When Mi'rasj finishes to put on his gauntlets, Yoake suspects he will try to wake her up, so she shifts silently in her bedroll, into a position that she hopes is convincing enough to fool him into thinking she's asleep. Mi'rasj, having geared up, looks over at his Khajiit companion. Her back is towards him, and her breath is deep and steady. He smiles and strolls over to her side.

"Yoake?" he whispers. No response.

"Yoake, it is time to get up.", he says a little louder, tapping her shoulder with a claw.

Nothing. Meanwhile, Yoake is smiling heartily, finding it increasingly difficult to resist the urge to laugh or startle him.

She hears Mi'rasj sigh, then she feels his tail tickling her nose!

This made her sneeze shortly after, and she uses this event to pretend to wake up.

Yoake responds by blowing his tail away from her face:

"Pff! ...morning, Mir..."

"Good morning, moonbeam!", Mi'rasj says, in reference to Yoake's white hair. "It is time for us to move, we were lucky not to get our throats cut in the night..." "hmmhm...yes, yes..."

Mi'rasj sits down on a nearby chair to rummage through his haversack for breakfast.

Meanwhile, Yoake sits up, and rubs her eyes sleepily, yawning to hide her grin. _Seemingly_ unknowing to the male is watching, Yoake rises and give a long feline stretch that go from the end of her tail to the tip of her claws extended over her head. Opening her deep blue eyes, she is greeted with the sight of a staring male who seem a little hot under his collar. She struggles hard to keep the innocent sleepy expression on her face.

Feeling an urge to both tease and repay him for his "show",

Yoake turns around to put on her shrouded armour, bending over to give Mi'rasj an astounding view of her leather-clad behind as she slowly slides on the signature clothing of the Dark Brotherhood.

The ears of the teasing she-cat pick up that all movement from Mi'rasj have stopped. "Transfixed, huh?", she thinks.

Taking her time with every strap and buckle on each leg, it takes at least a couple of minutes before she is done with them.

Not before hoisting the form-fitting black armour over her hips and securing it tightly, does she turn around and reach for the shrouded jacket.

Peeking at Mi'rasj with her peripheral vision as she grabs the rest of the armour, she sees that he is extremely uncomfortable, and leaning forwards, forearms on his knees. "That has to be a two-fold action: to bring his eyes closer to her "performance", and to hide what is surely a protrusion in his nether region. Hihihi..." Calmly equipping her jacket, Yoake takes a closer look at her companion's face. An amusing mix of embarrassment, excitement and annoyance are all too present!

''Are you quite alright? You look a little warm. I hope you don't have a fever...'' Startled, Mi'rasj focuses, and quickly resumes his search through his haversack. His hand emerges clutching the roasted leg of a chicken. ''Heh, eh… Mir is fine! Excellent even! Yes… he feels... invigorated, yes. Blood rushing... everywhere!''

He waves the chicken leg around to amplify his statements.

He would be more convincing had his voice been less nervous and high pitched. Mi'rasj still looks mighty embarrassed as his eyes drop to the floor in the silence that follows, hoping that the stone and dirt would swirl together to form a portal to Oblivion.

"Oufh... anywhere but here!" he thinks to himself.


	5. Use your surroundings!

**Adventures of Two Khajiit**

Co-authored by me and My friend

Disclaimer!

 **Chapter 5: Use your surroundings!**

Yoake arc one eyebrow, trying hard, and mostly succeeding, in keeping the smirk off her face. ''That's good, we still have most of a mine to clear, and probably many foes to kill.'' Fastening her gauntlets while she talks, the lynx-like female swing her bow over her shoulder, Dawnbreaker already in her belt. Looking up in time to catch a thrown apple from Mi'rasj, she smiles at her partner. ''Ready to go and make Forsworn blood splatter everywhere?'' Mi'rasj gnaws away the last piece of flesh off the bone of his chicken leg, and throws it away. He heaves the haversack over his shoulder, and nods. "Ladies first!" he says with a smile as he grabs the strange, magical staff.

Continuing through the tunnels leading deeper into the mine, the two cats tread on silent feet, only meeting the resistance of a few Frostbite Spiders, and a couple of men on their way through the mine, until suddenly a vast cavern open before them: a stalagmite nearly five fathoms high dominating one half of it. Part of the ceiling has collapsed, letting a river enter the cave in a beautiful waterfall falling into a deep pond, before rushing on downward and disappearing into the rock wall. Near the pond, a Hagraven is holding court with a couple Briarhearts and a few Forsworn.

There is a tunnel leading onwards in the far corner of the cave.

Standing unnoticed in the shadows near the tunnel they entered through, the Khajiit study their enemies. ''We need a distraction, or we will have a hard time dealing with both the Hagraven and the Briarhearts.'' Mi'rasj keep his golden eyes on the group as he talks, the stern look of a tried warrior on his face.

In contrast, Yoakes face is calm and cool, without expression at all. The face of one who strike unseen from the dark without guilt or remorse. Unfeeling as the moonlight shadows. Sneaking a look at her face, Mi'rasj is suddenly hit with the fact that the lithe, snarky female by his side is a professional assassin.

"How many arrows does Yoake have? Mir has 5" he whispers as he slides his haversack off his shoulder and leans the staff against the cave wall.

Unaware of his gaze, Yoake check her quiver and thumb the string of her bow. ''I have… 15 glass and… lots of ebony arrows. They should be sufficient to create some chaos. But I could always sneak and bite some ankles, if you think that would help'' With a grin, the honey furred female start sneaking along the wall, looking for a good spot to start the mayhem from.

Mi'rasj smile at the joke, marvelling at the fact that she can crack a joke anywhere. Studying the stalagmite closer, he notes that for its size, the base is narrow, and if it were to collapse when anyone stood next to it, it would most likely be rather… unhealthy. Swinging his tail to catch Yoakes attention, the male mouths overly articulate ''Fus Ro-Dah'', pointing at the heavy stony spire. With a wicked grin, she catches on to his plan. Going through the shouts she knows, the she-cat tries to remember which one could lure their enemies to the large structure. ''Make a rune trap'' she whispers back, barely louder than a breath, trusting that her companion will hear her.

Seeing Yoake going through her mental drawers to find a suitable shout, Mi'rasj twitch his tail again. ''Throw Voice'' he whispers silently, placing a frost rune trap just out of the visual range of their bloodthirsty foes.

''Throw Voice, of course. You are an idiot, Yoake of the Sands!'' The female think to herself, an annoyed look on her face. ''Thank you'' she mouths back to her magic-inclined partner. Closing her eyes a moment, the female draw a deep breath, letting the shout rise from within. Aiming above the trap, she releases the power in a breath. ''Hey, cheese brain!'' a voice calls, alerting the Hagraven and her kin, luring them toward the trap. Yoake ready her bow, prepared to shoot whomever the trap doesn't kill.

Mi'rasj give a short nod. As their foes near the spire, the brown Khajiit crouches as low as he can, priming all the muscles of his powerful legs, and without a sound, jumps high into the air.

Having located the stalagmite's weak-spot beforehand, he uses his lightning fast reflexes to deliver a powerful kick right where it counts. The natural tower cracks at the base, and with a terrifying groan, its massive weight heading straight for the Forsworn.

Two of them are shattered beneath the stones, and the last Briarheart is unfortunate enough to almost escape, only to have his legs crushed under the weight of the pillar.

Two Forsworn and a single Hagraven remain, and they dart frightened away from the stones, and right into the rune trap. The Hagraven and the sword wielding Forsworn are struck and incapacitated, but the remaining forsworn nock an arrow, backing away.

His avoidance proves to be of no use, as a dark arrow fly out of the shadows. Two more swiftly follow, and the frozen Hagraven and Forsworn burst into flame as they are hit. Yoake step out of the darkness by the wall, gliding soundlessly over the floor. Another arrow fly towards the bird-woman, felling the creature, as the she-cat flick her tail toward the trapped Briarheart, signalling Mi'rasj to put the man out of his misery. She goes back to retrieve his haversack and their staff.

Mi'rasj walk over to the trapped man, admiring Yoake's precision with the bow. The man is crying in pain, his legs are shattered and his will to fight long is gone. The Khajiit steps on his arm, just to be certain, and he squats over the trapped Forsworn, putting his furry hand on the man's shoulder. Mi'rasj ask coldly ''Do you repent?''

The man is breathing rapidly. ''Wh-what?'' he manages to get out through the pain.

''Regret. Do you regret? All the killing, maiming, terrorizing and extortion you have done? If you do, Khajiit will make sure you meet the Old Gods you follow, quickly and free of pain.'' Mi'rasj tighten his hand on the man's shoulder. The Forsworn is shaking violently now, clenching his jagged teeth. ''Yes! Yes, I regret! Just make it st-stop!'' ''Khajiit believe you.'' With a swift and precise draw of his knife, the Forsworn's throat is cut open. The man loses consciousness before a second has passed, his soul passing into the ether.

Yoake stands silent by Mi'rasj' side as he rises from the ground, four bloody arrows in her hand and the dead Hagraven behind her. Quietly she brushes her free hand against his. ''You gave him a swift end, as all who repent deserve. Let's pray he go to his gods.''

Mi'rasj nods, his face looking stern, but his golden eyes are distant and unfocused, seeing old memories instead of the cave. He takes Yoake's hand in his and squeezes it, using the warm solidness as an anchor to pull him back to the present. He blinks once.

''Yes…'' a deep sigh ''… let's wash...'' he says, in a monotone, broken voice. He lets go of her hand without looking at the female beside him, and slowly starts to walk towards the river.

Sending his back a speculative and worried look as he walks away,

''I wonder what memories plague his mind'' Yoake thinks to herself as she follows the he-cat down to the water, sidestepping the fallen stones. Laying down her arms and armour, her boots and pack where they won't get wet, she wades out and steps under the waterfall, her light grey linen tunic instantly getting soaked through and clings to her form. She scrubs her face with her hands to get the blood out of her fur and hair, before leaning her head back eyes closed against the spray, letting the water wash away the evidence of nearly two days of fighting and carnage.

Mi'rasj takes of his armour and gear as well, down to his loincloth. Sitting down at the edge of the water in a cross-legged, meditative pose, he stares beyond the soft ripples of the pond, making sure not to look at the waterfall out of respect of his partner's privacy. But he does not see the small waves or the ripples of light reflected onto the walls and ceiling by the sunlight hitting the pond.

His mind is thrown into the past, to his first mercy-kill that took place a night in Bravil, during a rough storm four years ago.


	6. Revelations

**Adventures of Two Khajiit**

Co-authored by me and My Friend

Disclaimer: The fair land of Skyrim and all it's inhabitants (except Yoake and Mi'rasj) belong to Bethesda

 **Chapter 6: Revelations**

 _The run-down city of Bravil had many shacks held up solely by each other and wishful thinking, it seemed._ _The storm that came through that night tore many of them down._

 _Mi'rasj came through the area looking for shelter and food, but he found naught but despair and death._

 _The town guards would not help the trapped people in their shacks, they did not care about the ''lesser'' beast-folk who lived there in apparent squalor._ _All the guards were ''conveniently'' occupied rallying the horses that escaped from the corral that's had its fence broken by a falling tree. The order came from guard captain Lerus, another Imperial bigot. Mi'rasj was glad he did not see them, or else Lerus would have an impressive clawed cheek-scar to complement their looks right now!_

 _Mi'rasj decided he would do what the guards would not: help these poor souls out. He went to the nearest shack and started shouting. The voice of a man replied, telling him where to find him._ _They worked together on the corner of the shack, their combined efforts made a whole big enough for the scraggy elderly Imperial to crawl out of. He helped the man sit down with his back against the impressive stone wall that encircled the town._

 _He ran to the second shack and cried out for people who needed help. He got booming, hysterical and out-of-place laughter in return. "This one must be out of it!" Mi'rasj had thought, and he had been right: when he finally manages to find a way in through a window, he found a male Orc dancing with a log!_ _The main roof support beam, no less!_

 _Familiar small white skooma bottles were lying around the room. This Orc clearly had no idea of the danger he was in._

 _A wrong word, and this would end badly, as the brute strength of an Orc will make short match of a tired Khajiit._ _But time was of the essence. With the beam gone, and the winds pulling, the roof could come down at any second!_ _Mi'rasj put on the most warm and polite face he could._ _Grabbing the singing Orc by his shoulder, he said "Heeey, friend! Let's go outside and give these snotty Imps a show, huh?" while_ _gently, but hurriedly guiding the delusional Orc out the front door the cat had managed to force open._

 _The Orc was bigger than Mi'rasj, and in his stupor, the Orc threw open the door even wider, as he believed he could not fit through the small crack the Khajiit had made._ _That was all it took for the building to come down!_ _Then Mi'rasj used his feline reflexes to push the Orc out in front of him before diving over the doorstep, while the crashing roof missed him by a whisker._ _Mi'rasj' canvas trousers and tunic was now soaked in mud, but he didn't care. He couldn't. Not now._

 _He brought the rambling Orc towards the "Lonely Suitor" lodge as quickly as he could. It pained Mi'rasj that it was so far away from the last shack and (possibly) the last person in need of assistance. The bridge spanning the canal seemed endless to him._ _Finally reaching the lodge, a wave of warmth washed over him, inviting the cat to the crackling fire. But he had no time._ _Mi'rasj said something among the lines of_ _"Orc is homeless and high on skooma! Please take care of him!"_ _before throwing his last remaining septims at the baffled Orc innkeeper behind the counter._

 _An instant later the worried Khajiit was running across the bridge. The rainstorm was still going strong, and the thunder and lightning created a violent visage. Mi'rasj has never liked thunder._ _Few Khajiit do._ _The low rumbling is very easily picked up by Khajiiti ears, reminding us of the growl of a Khajiit about to attack..._

 _Mi'rasj reached the final shack, which was also the largest, with its two floors. It stood next to the great chapel of Mara._ _Mi'rasj went around the walls, calling and listening every so often._ _He heard nothing._ _The strained Khajiit turned around, and started a slow, disheartened walk towards the lodge. "Wait!"_ _Did he hear something? He might have._ _Mi'rasj stood still for a moment, closing his eyes._ _Concentrating._

 _There was a flash. Silence. A whimper._ _Then the thunder struck, and the whimper was drowned in the thunderous growl that soared through the black sky._ _But he had heard it!_

 _He turned on his heels, and ran to the shack._ _"By the Gods, there were someone in there after all!"_

 _He tried kicking door in. Futile._

 _Three of the four walls were still standing, the fourth made inaccessible from the collapsed ceiling. The windows were bolted._ _However, the ceiling had tilted at a 60-degree angle,_ _leaving a gap in the planks up by the midsection of the wall!_ _Mi'rasj threw off his muddy leather boots, extended all his claws, and started to climb the wooden wall._

 _The Khajiit had to use all the powers his muscles could give him to not fall. The wind didn't make it any easier._ _His full body weight being concentrated on 10 small claws was excruciating, however he used the pain as motivation._ _Clenching his teeth, he inched himself closer and closer to_ _the gap in the uppermost planks, a little over 2 fathoms up._

 _Mi'rasj' claws were near being torn from their sockets, and the surrounding tendons were completely numb, when he finally made it to the hole. Being completely drained of stamina, he barely managed to get inside. He fell unceremoniously down towards the ground floor. By a stroke of luck, he landed on the bed of the occupant. Mi'rasj had to lay there for a few seconds, to regain his energy and bearings. Panting, he looked around the ruined shack._

 _An old female Argonian, with grey scales and broken horns,_ _had been pierced through the abdomen by a dislodged roof beam. Her frail, limp figure was pinned against the wall, crying silently, having completely given up._

 _When Mi'rasj saw the horrifying state the poor Argonian was in,_ _he knew she would never make it to sunrise._ _He rolled of the bed, and walked with heavy steps towards the Argonian. "Khajiit does not think this one will make it._ _Too much blood." The crone sighs and winces._

 _"It's alright, my dear... hhh... I've lived a rich life... hhh...hhh... the stories I could tell... hoh... they would make the hairs on your neck stand out... hah, hah..." Mi'rasj is tearing up. He is unsure why._ _"D-do... you... want Khajiit... to... to send you to the H-Hist?"_ _His voice cracks at the end of the sentence._

 _"hhh... I would like that... hhh... very much, thank you."_ _Her end by his weary hands was swift, at least. But not stern._

 _After the deed, Mi'rasj lost focus._ _His strength, gone. His willpower, gone._ _He just knew that he had to get out._ _Stumbling to the door, finding it relatively easy to dislodge from within, so he soon found himself out in the street again._

 _The lightning, thunder and rain had stopped._ _There was only a mild breeze going through the city._ _But Mi'rasj didn't feel it. He felt nothing._ _Nothing but a harrowing void._

 _Straight ahead and to the right from the shack door_ _stood a large tree, surrounded by monkshood flowers._ _Mi'rasj went to the tree, put his back against the trunk,_ _and slid down and wept, unashamed, until the sun came up._

Under the waterfall, Yoake bow her head, somehow sensing Mi'rasj' troubled memories. Lifting her hands, she watches the water run between her fingers, and with a barely noticeable twitch, she unsheathes her sharp claws. Her eyes trace the razor-sharp tips, a Khajiit is always armed… as she watches, the water turn red and thick, as if all the blood that has been spilled with her claws suddenly re-emerge, and trickle slowly over those deadly points to coat her hands. Her thoughts go back to all those who have died by her hand, all because someone wanted them dead.

With a sigh, she shakes off the memories. She had no delusions of what she was. She was an Assassin… a professional killer, and a damn good one at that. Given a contract she asked no questions, she needed only know who and where... _how_ she always devised on the spot, after shadowing her mark for some time.

But not why, _never_ why…

In the peace and silence of the night, the faces of her victims often returned, and she wondered how many of them deserved to die.

Looking up, she observes Mi'rasj' brown back, with its black markings, sitting on the edge of the water. He is breathing slowly and steadily. A bitter smile curl her lips for a moment, ''He is far better than me...'' she thinks as she walks toward him, sinking to the ground by his side.

Mi'rasj senses Yoake's presence. His tail find hers. The he-cat sighs: "Mi'rasj has had a long think about the contents of his life. Much death. Little joy. Although he may not show it, this cat is weak. He worries he might go astray from the noble path he follows... But Mi'rasj is happy Yoake is this flea-bag's guiding light and tether."

Yoake give a pained smile in return, and leans slightly against his shoulder, and runs a hand through his hair. "Hmm... I don't see any fleas... and you are stronger than you think, Mir, you're capable of giving mercy..." The female look down in her lap, while instinctively drooping her ears from the sadness she feels within. Her white hair drops, and hide her muzzle as she continues: "... but I am not the one you should follow if you want to stay on the noble path... that way has long since been denied to me, for a murderer, a killer for hire... doesn't belong among noble fighters..."

Mi'rasj is quiet for a bit, then he sighs, turning around to face her. His hands lead her flowing white mane behind her ears again, and he puts his palms to her cheeks, tilting her head so that they are face-to-face. Yoake averts his gaze. "Yoake... we justly take by force. And the Black Sacrament can only be performed on those that **deserve** to die! As long as Yoake do not kill the innocent, which she has already said she does not, Mi'rasj will have no problems with her actions. He swears!" For a moment, blue meet topaz, before Yoake lowers her gaze again, one of her ears flicks as she snorts "A poor beggar? A farm-hand? I have had contracts on both. I wonder, what could _they_ have done to deserve to die by an assassin's hand? _My_ hand!"

Mi'rasj takes Yoake's hands, and look upon her sincerely. "Performing the Black Sacrament on an innocent damages the soul beyond all thresholds imaginable. Mi'rasj have seen this! Take his word for it: they deserved it... they just _hid_ it! But the Night Mother and Sithis... **they** know who is guilty! **They** see through the façade; to the demon within that deserves to die!"

Startled, Yoake looks into his eyes. Letting out a long breath, she leans into his touch, lifting one hand to hold his against her chin.

"...Yes... you're right, Mir... the Night Mother and Sithis would never let their children kill an innocent, to do so is the way of a simple mercenary, not a true assassin..." Laughing faintly, the spotted furred female puts her forehead on Mi'rasj' shoulder. She continues, light at heart: "Maybe it's a good thing I became a thief as well... they just steal stuff"

Mi'rasj embrace the female in his arms. "Mir is sad and shocked that he had to tell you this… but he is glad you understand now. Nh, killing innocents will get Yoake kicked out of the Thieves Guild, Mir recalls. But hey, let's not cling too long, she will get blood on her beautiful white fur, and you just had a bath. Which reminds Mir, he still need one."


	7. Pond-side embarrassment and food

**Adventures of Two Khajiit**

Co-Authored by Me and My Friend

Disclaimer: *Sobs because we still don't own Skyrim*

 **Chapter 7: Pond-side embarrassment… And food.**

Yoake straightens and smile at her companion, her white muzzle a contrast to the golden-brown spotted fur the cover the rest of her slender body. She gives a small laugh and looks down her front, the still wet grey linen of the tunic spotless. ''No danger there, this one was the one who got a face full of blood. I think my armour need a rinse as well. But that can wait until one is done'' Still smiling, the she-cat pad over to a patch of soft grass where the sun shine through a hole in the ceiling high above, laying down on the ground to bask in the warm light as she waits for Mi'rasj to be finished with his bath.

Standing up, the male wades towards the sparkling fall of water. The pond reaches him mid-thigh, just under where the cold would start to make things uncomfortable.

The water is cool and calm, the droplets refreshing against his brown fur, the ripples turning it clean, smooth, silken and sleek after just a short while. He revels in the cascade for a time, keeping his eyes and ears shut as not to get water in them, and gives himself a through wash, the first proper one in a quarter moons time. But then he starts to daydream…

In the sunlight, Yoake shifts slightly to dislodge the root poking into her back. It has the bonus of improving the view.

A cool splash of water snaps Mi'rasj out of his daydream. This one was remarkably…vivid. Looking around to see what caused the splash, his eyes falls on Yoake lying innocently still on her spot of sunlight, a small suspicious crater in the dirt by her side, like a rock has been removed.

''Finish washing? You have been standing there for quite some time.'' Her voice rings out over the ripples.

''Uuh, yes! It just takes some time to get the sot out of Mir's ears!'' Hurriedly finishing his wash, the male walk toward the shore, not noticing the rich slick with algae near the edge. Losing his footing on the slippery rocks, the male falls backwards into the water. Few Khajiit like to be fully submerged, and Mi'rasj is no exception, flailing his limbs about before he gets up in a flash, panting.

''What? What is it?!'' The cat asks Yoake, who had lifted her head at the noise, and now has a weird expression on her face.

She looks at the Khajiit standing sodding wet in the water, algae in his fur, not sure if she should laugh, stare or hide her face. ''…that was the most uncoordinated one has ever seen a Khajiit. Also… You seem to have a…pointed… problem''

Laying back on the ground, she rolls on her side, clutching her stomach as laughter wins.

''Hey! This one was distracted by… oh…. Ehheheh, not to worry, this is merely a reaction. Yes! Yes, there must be something in the water! Or the sand!'' Mi'rasj splutters as he carefully walks the rest on the way to the shore, and sits down on a medium sized round rock to cool down. ''Mir is starting to feel cold… He would both dry and warm quicker in the sum, no?'' Peering over his shoulder at the still laughing female as he speaks.

Getting her laughter under control, Yoake sits up. ''Suuure, something in the water…'' Shaking her head with a smile, she rises and walk over to her things. Struggling into her pants, the leather snagging on still moist fur, she picks up her bloody armour and bring it to the water's edge. ''The sunlight is all yours, Mi'rasj''

Sighing as he gets up from his spot, the brown furred male struts over to the sunny patch, made comfortable from Yoake's nap. ''Thank you, kitten. Mir will bask in the sun for a while… one would not happen to have any food with them'' He senses his problem is diminishing, to the point of minimal embarrassment as he lays down on his back, eyes closed and waiting for her reply.

Yoake looks up from where she's been hunched over the water, scrubbing at the dark cloth and leather of the Brotherhood's signature armour. Her ears flicking to dislodge some errant droplets of water, the white spots in their backs flashing with the movement. ''I have some dried meat… and maybe a bit of smoked salmon. Want me to get you some?'' The lynx like Khajiit rest her arms on her legs, sitting perfectly balanced on her toes, tail swaying softly behind her as she waits for his answer.

Licking his lips at the thought of sweet, juicy and tender salmon, Mi'rasj support himself on his elbows. ''mmmmm, salmon would taste delicious, this one is sure.'' He says, opening his eyes to observe the perched cat in front of him, and her tail swinging hypnotically.

Nodding, the she-cat walk over to the packs, placing her armour on the rocks to dry, mentally noting she should oil the leather when she gets home. Digging through the bags for food, tail swinging for balance. Finding what she looks for, the female walk over to Mi'rasj, handing him the salmon as she sits beside him. ''Here you go, there is more if one is still hungry.''

Bringing the fish meat to his muzzle, Mi'rasj draw in a long breath, savouring the scent of smoked salmon. ''Thank you. We shall see? What will this one eat?'' The he-cat ask, taking a bite out of the small steak, enjoying each chew of his strong feline jaw.

Chewing happily on a strip of meat herself, purr in her throat, Yoake rips of a piece and swallow before answering. ''Salted and dried goat leg, there is nothing better.''

The fish-juice drips down from the filet, down Mi'rasj' forearms and chin, as well as down on his bare chest. He ignores the flow, focusing solely on one of the flavours he enjoys the most in the world. Looking up from her own meal, Yoake rolled her eyes affectionately at her partner's mess. ''You are going to need another bath, my friend.''

The hungry males head drops to observe the mess he has made of himself. Shrugging his shoulders, he licks the fat from his fingers. ''Is that so? One thinks if he smelled of salmon, sabre cats would come for him. Their pelts and fangs make good coin on the marked''

''That they do, this one might just get chewed on in the proses. And I rather like you in one piece and not in several sabre cat bellies.'' Yoake grin at Mi'rasj, her blue eyes twinkling with humour.

Suddenly her ears catch a distant sound, and her head whips around, all traces of laughter gone. ''…Do you know what I just realised?''


	8. The cold water of Kolskeggr

Adventures of Two Khajiit

Co-authored by Me and My Friend

Disclaimer: Bethesda still own all of Skyrim... except Yoake and Mi'rasj

 **Chapter 8: The Cold Water of Kolskeggr**

Mi'rasj is engrossed is licking the fish juice from his fur, and answer before really hearing the question, ''Mir will be sure to keep his tail and the rest of his appendages close…'' His head snaps up, eyes and ears alert and nose sniffing the air as he finally takes note of what the female asked. ''What?''

Beside him, Yoake is looking at him with a deceptional calm look on her face. ''We are in the middle of a mine filled with enemies, we are out of armour and our weapons are out of reach… in other words… WE ARE IDIOTS!'' Scrambling to her feet, the spotted feline dive for her arms and gear as fast as her muscles can carry her across the floor as the sound of distant footsteps echoing through the cave become louder.

It takes the male a second to process Yoake's frantic shout, but when he does, he run for his own weapons and armour as well. ''By Alkosh, this one is right!'' He barely has time to put on Saviour's Hide, and shove his boots and gloves into his haversack which he then slings over his shoulder. ''Kolskeggr does not lack in excitement. Does Yoake know where they are coming from?'' Readying his Imperial bow, the Khajiit look to his partner.

Said female is jumping beside her own pack, trying to fasten her armour and put her things in the sack at the same time, her Blade of Woe between her teeth and Dawnbreaker already hanging askew at her side. Flicking a look in Mi'rasj' direction, their eyes meet for a moment. ''Everywhere.'' While emitting a couple of Khajiit curse words, he throws his bow along with his sword in his haversack as well, and cast his golden eyes around the cavern, looking for a way out.

''Fantastic… this one knows, Ahzirr Traajijazeri says that in situations like this, honour is madness!'' His gaze fall on the river, still rushing past into the hole in the wall. ''How long can Yoake hold her breath? We could dash for the underground river, and pray to the Moons it leads to the main river outside. We have to leave the staff, though!''

Throwing her bow and pack on her back, the feline female run for the river. ''…Good idea, let's do that. Here!'' She throws a potion of waterbreathing to the male running after her, chugging one herself as she dives into the river, swimming as fast as she could toward the point where the water disappears into the wall.

Mi'rasj catches the small white vial mid-air, and run towards the rock he had been sitting on not long ago. He primes the muscles is his legs, and jumps. He lands on the rock and use it to propel himself further, leaping an impressive distance both upwards and onwards.

While airborne, he uses his Khajiit reflexes to uncork the vial and drink its contents. He coughs from the unpleasant taste that reminds him of rancid mudcrab, then he hits the water not far behind Yoake, nearly clawing her tail as he cuts through the water.

Trusting the potion to work its magic at a moment's notice, he dives under the surface to increase his speed. He struggles to keep his eyes open against the force of the water around him, barely managing to keep the white tip of Yoakes tail in his view. Around him he hears a series of small splashes. Arrows.

The lethal, two-pronged arrows of the Forsworn also hit the cavern wall in front and above the fleeing Khajiit, and fall into the stream. Distantly, Mi'rasj feel a piercing pain somewhere in his behind, a few arrows have found their mark, or have been carried by the current into his flesh. The river current increase as it disappears underground, sucking the cats with it. There is no turning back now, there is only one way forward, and all they can do is pray the water will carry them outside before they run out of air.

The current was strong, dragging the two along quickly enough that trying to swim was a lost cause. All they could do was try to avoid the rocks and walls of the tunnel, that even the Khajiit struggled to see in the pitch-black darkness. Yoake didn't know how far they had been dragged, but she could feel the potion losing effect, her lungs trying harder and harder to convince her that gasping for breath would be a good idea, even if her brain knew doing so would mean the end. Exhausted from fighting the current's desire to bang her against every wall, Yoake is unable to evade a jutting rock in her path, slamming into it at high speed… she catches a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel before everything fade to black.

Mi'rasj drank the potion later than Yoake, so he still has a few precious seconds of air left when he saw his companion hitting a protruding rock head first, the stone almost hitting him as well. He barely manages to grab the furry feline by her tail to stop her from being carried off by the water, the light of the outside afternoon growing rapidly closer. Reaching the opening, and the open air, the current pull them toward the right, toward the thundering sound of water going over an edge to crash against rocks. Clenching his jaw against the pain of the arrowheads digging into his flesh, the male lean backwards. With Yoake's tail still in hand, he uses every ounce of strength in his body to move them toward the left, and the shore that should be there.

His head break the waterline, and he desperately gasp for air, that burns as if his lungs have forgotten their purpose. Seeing the frothing edge of the massive waterfall, he doubles his efforts. Mara the Mother Cat herself must have been watching over him, because his free hand finds a solid tree root hanging over the river. Straining every fibre in his body, he locks his shoulder, arm and hand as he looks around in panic. Yoake's head is still underwater.

10 fathoms away there is a small, sandy beach. With a few strong drags and quick grabs, the male get the she-cat's head above the surface. She is far too still in his arms. Letting go of the root, Mi'rasj drifts on his back, kicking with his legs to guide them to the shore. When he feel the coarse sand rubbing against his shoulders, he turns and drag Yoake up the shore to relative safety.

The he-cat then collapses, panting, trying to regain his composure for a few seconds. He stretches his hand over Yoake's mouth. Mi'rasj feels a rush of new energy as he notices she is not breathing. He suddenly starts cry uncontrollably. Quickly moving his fingers to the side of her throat, he gasps as he feel a weak pulse. All is not lost yet!

Something deep within Mi'rasj awoke. A distant memory told him exactly what to do.

Hurriedly changing his stance from almost lying to as if he was going to propose, he throws away her pack and bow and bends Yoake's back over his thigh, torso facing outwards, head downwards, to make sure her air duct and esophagus is diagonal. Sure enough, a second later, horrifying amounts of water pours out of her mouth. When the stream is reduced to a trickle, Mi'rasj puts the female down, draws a deep breath, closes his lips around hers, and slowly blows air into her. He presses his hand down on her stomach to confirm that the air is going to her lungs. Barely any air is received before a new torrent sprays out, and he repeats the procedure, each time getting more air into her, and less water out of her. The pain from the arrows are forgotten as he tries to blow life back into the woman who's well-being has quickly become connected to his own happiness.


	9. Life

Adventures of Two Khajiit

Co-authored by Me and My Friend

Disclaimer:...Do I need to say it?

 **Chapter **9: Lif** e**

With a gurgling gasp, Yoake's eyes open in a heartbeat, panicking. She rolls over to her side as she coughs and regurgitates what feels like an entire river. With ragged breath, she collapses on the sand as her lungs strain themselves to give her enough air. "Hahh, by the Moons, the Mane, and the Mother Cat! You live!" Mi'rasj' leans back on onto his side, his tears of distress and anguish have become tears of utter joy and relief.

Yoake looks at the he-cat's euphoric face. "...we made it... hhhh... let's never do that again," she says as she lifts her weak arm to cup his jaw, and stroke a thumb over is wet, furry cheek. "Thank you, Mir... for saving me." Mi'rasj puts his hand on the back of hers. It's trembling, but feel pleasantly warm. "hhh, agreed. Next time we... hhheh... we kill them all. Mir may have saved Yoake, but _her_ potions... saved _us_... so thank _you_!"

The she-cat smiles. "Heh... I never thought... it would pay off to... never truly empty out my packs..."The she-cat weave her fingers into his for a moment, then sits up as she notices two snapped thumb-length arrow shafts protruding from his blood in the sand, coming from Mi'rasj' behind. "You're hurt, Mir..."

Mi'rasj doesn't feel his injuries before Yoake points them out.

"Hn. It appears Mir has a couple of arrows in him, yes. But he cannot reach them at a good angle. Can this one take a look?"

"Of course," Yoake says, putting a hand on the male's shoulder. "Okay, lay down on your belly... good..." Leaning over Mi'rasj she counts two arrow shafts, one just under and beside his tail, and the other in his right upper thigh. "Well Mir, you have one arrow in your butt... and one in your thigh... they have penetrated quite deep... the only way to remove these is to _cut_ them out..."

Yoake winces as she sees Mi'rasj' narrow his eyes and wrinkle his nose, the coming procedure does not, understandably, appeal to him. The worry in his eyes is substantial.

"Oufh... is Yoake's skill in restorative magic inadequate? Can she carve the arrows out herself? Does she have any Sleep-Sap from the Tree That Sleeps? Mir has heard from Ysolda in Whiterun that it has healing qualities. He is unsure how it will affect a Khajiit, though."

Yoake puts a comforting hand on his tense shoulder. She massages it lightly, kneading the muscles. ''I can heal... a little. I can fix scratches, cuts and broken bones with a spell, but cutting into and digging around you muscles, never mind your _behind_ , in order to remove arrows? That I'm not anywhere _near_ qualified for. Even if I was, I don't have any surgical tools with me, and I would _never_ dare to use my Blade of Woe! And I don't have any Sap, it's been ages since I had anything to do with that _that_ stuff. I'm sorry."

"Hhhh... alright, it's alright... eehh," Mi'rasj scratches his ear. "The priestesses of Dibella in Markarth are patrons of love and life. Maybe they have healers who can help Mir?"

"Hah! The priestesses! I think they can! Markarth is not that far away. But how to get you there... you're obviously not fit to ride..."

Yoake cross her legs, and absently drag her fingers through Mi'rasj' hair as she thinks, looking at the river. She spies their packs being stuck to a root, the glowing blade of Dawnbreaker is visible in the water, having made a hole through her pack.

"Will you be alright while I look for the horses, Mir?" she says as she tiredly walks over to the shore to retrieve their packs and her sword.

Mi'rasj rests on his side. "Mir may not be able to sit, but what if he were laying over the back of the horse? Heh, Yoake will not have to look long for _his_ horse..." Mi'rasj raises a trembling hand, palm outwards, and focuses on a spot somewhere in front of him. The air shimmers, ripples and with a blue flash and a crack, Arvak stands 3 fathoms away.

Yoake blinks, looks at Arvak, then back at Mi'rasj, then back to the skeletal steed again. "I'm _not_ going to let you lay across _him_! I'm getting Shadowmere. Stay safe, Mir." "He will. Good luck!"


	10. Recuperation

Adventures of Two Khajiit

Co-authored by Me and My Friend

Disclaimer:... -.-'

 **Chapter 10: Recuperation**

Yoake heads out, ears perked to catch any sounds, be it friendly or hostile. She finds the main road, and puts her fingers to her mouth and whistles a melody. It's so high that it can barely be heard by someone standing next to her, but the tune carries far.

She doesn't have to wait long before the sound of distant thundering hooves is heard, increasing steadily. The impressive, night black stallion soon emerges between the nearby trees. Yoake lead Shadowmere back to the beach, a lump forming in her throat when she sees all the blood. "Mir? Are you alright?" "Hhhh... just tired... weak. Help Mir up, please."

The worried she-cat grabs Mi'rasj by his armpits, and through great effort, get him on his belly across the comfortable saddle. Yoake use some of her leather strips to secure Saviour's Hide to the saddle. Once Mi'rasj is in no danger of falling off, she instructs Shadowmere to make the trip to Markarth as stable as possible. He keeps the pace at a reasonably paced trot, with Arvak following a short distance behind. At this rate, they will reach The City of Stone when a sundial would show "8".

Keeping one hand on the dark stallion's shoulder, Yoake sets of at a looping run that she can keep up for hours. Her sharp eyes scout the landscape ahead, searching each rock, bush and hillside on the road to Markarth for bandits and predators that they don't have the time to fight, anything that may halt their journey. There is no sound beside the clopping of hooves and the occasional pained moan from Mi'rasj, but the lynx Khajiit has trouble hearing them over her own thumping heart.

Sooner than she thought, but far later than she hoped, a familiar hill lead down to a bridge, a guard tower and up to the welcome grey walls of the City of Stone. Sighing of relief, Yoake slow as she reaches the last slope before the stables. Calling out to Cedran for help as she nears, the she-cat start releasing the straps holding Mi'rasj to the saddle as soon as Shadowmere stop. ''Cedran! Mi'rasj has been shot, can you help me get him to the Temple of Dibella?''

Having been momentarily startled by the sudden appearance of Markarth's Khajiit Thane with her red-eyed horse, and another skeletal horse following them, Cedran gets up from his chair, and jog over to the duo. ''Well of course! As long as we take it slow, these old legs o' mine don't like stairs very much.'' Moving to Yoake's side, the stable master help her lower the injured he-cat to from the saddle before slinging the Khajiit's left arm over his shoulder while Yoake takes the right side. Looking over at her human helper, she can't help but let a small smile show. ''You are not that old, Cedran my friend. The wheel of the seasons shall turn many more times before you can no longer keep up with stairs and horses.''

With Mi'rasj supported between them, the three make their way through the massive metal doors that lead into the city. They are quite the sight, walking over the marketplace, a slender she-cat and an elderly Nord carrying a Khajiit with arrows in his behind between them. The locals murmur among themselves as the group passes, and some of the drunkards from the Silver Blood Inn is pointing and laughing, as if the trail of blood left behind them where Mi'rasj drags his injured leg is a fun thing.

Hearing the drunken laughter, Yoake lift her head despite the tiredness dragging it down, and bare her sharp fangs in a vicious snarl, ears flat against her skull and eyes full of sparks. It stops the laughter rather quickly, and more than a few of the drunken bastards recoil in pure, instinctual fright. Turning her face forward again, the tired Khajiit concentrate on not stumbling over the stairs. Even with help, Mi'rasj is mostly deadweight. And heavy for a lithe, exhausted cat.

Cedran is obviously tired, having taken as much of Mi'rasj' weight as he could when he saw how worn out Yoake was. His sweaty face is gleaming in the torchlight, but his dark eyes radiate determination. Together they inch up the stairs to the Temple. When they finally reach the entrance, Mi'rasj slips his arm of his helper, and lean shoulder first against the stone wall to give them a chance to catch their breath after carrying him across the city.

Using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, Cedran straightens and turn toward the stairs. ''This is as far as I'll go. Good luck you two!'' Yoake shake his hand and reach into her belt pouch for septims, but Cedran stops her before she can do much more than start untying the string holding the pouch closed. ''If he lives, I'll accept your coin. If he doesn't make it, I'm not going to take your gold for nothing!'' The she-cat nods in appreciation, and waves him goodbye as the horse-seller starts descending the stairs. Adjusting the arm over her shoulder, she turns toward the temple doors.

Using her one free hand, Yoake push open the doors, grateful they are not heavier. ''Hello? Priestess? I need a healer; my friend is hurt!'' Walking further into the temple, struggling under the weight of her by now nearly unconscious companion, the spotted feline sigh in relief as one of the young apprentices hurry over and lead them to a room in the back, where the head healer is already preparing. Helping the male lay down on his belly on a low table, the healer wave Yoake away and inspect the damage. ''Thank you…'' the furry female manages to breathe out as she sinks down on a nearby bench.

The healer gesture one of the priestesses over, and whisper something in her ear. The priestess hurries away, and arrive shortly with a wooden tray with different tools, including sharp bladed knives with long handles and a variety of different tongs. Trusting the woman to know what she is doing, Yoake barely keep her eyes open as the healer slowly but precisely cut the vicious two pronged arrowheads out of the male's flesh. They have gotten a good thumb-length deep.

Immediately after the last arrow is removed, the woman applies a strange, translucent paste that smell like mustard, on the bleeding wound. The effect is instant as the blood stop flowing and form a crust. Feeding her patient some herbs, the healer walks over to her tired but visibly worried spectator. ''He will recover, the arrows where luckily not poisoned,'' she says in a soft voice ''but he will need a lot of liquid, mead is fine, but milk is preferred. He will also need a lot of rest, at least 8 hours a day for a week. No running or jumping, either.''

Looking up from the bench where she was close to nodding off, Yoake give the woman a tired but grateful smile. ''Thank you, Milady. I will try to keep him from running and jumping, though this one know not how successful she will be. He can be rather sneaky… and stubborn.'' Rising to her feet, the usually graceful cat stumble before finding her footing. ''How much for your aid? And can he stay here while one get someone to help me carry him home?''

''If your friend here knows what is good for him, he will listen to you. We do not want the damage to get worse. The small sum of 80 septims is all we require for this service. Of course, if you spend a few minutes praying at the altar of Dibella, the Goddess of spirit and love, there will be no sum to pay at all. And he can stay here until you have found a volunteer to help you.''

Yoake look from the alter to the healer and back again. ''Actually… I have something for the Temple. A statue of Dibella, found in a bandit lair. It must have been stolen from some poor, unfortunate soul that were mugged and perhaps even killed by those ungodly savages. This one can think of no other who would give it the respect it deserves, and maybe even find who it belongs to. And I thank you, fair healer, your Temple's kindness is a beacon in these dark times.''

The soft-spoken healer smile brightly at the news. ''Haah, Dibella be praised! Thank you, child, thank you! This more than make up for the effort I have done here! Oh, such a gesture of good cannot go unrewarded! Here, take this enchanted ring. It was donated to us a month ago, but we have little use for it here. The enchantment will make you able to resist hostile magic, may it protect you when you need it the most!''

Bowing to the healer as courtly as she can without falling over in her exhausted state, Yoake head for the door. ''This one thank thee, Milady. The statue is still in my saddlebag, you shall have it upon my return.'' Walking outside, the slender she-cat begin the seemingly endless journey back to the stables for the statue, smiling when she sees that Cedran have been nice enough to saddle off both Shadowmere and Arvak and put them in their pens, with plenty of food and water. He has even brushed them down! Or at least the one that have fur to brush.

Yoake hangs a small bag of coin, with a thank-you note in it, on a convenient peg. She digs through her saddlebags, once again praising her own laziness when it comes to emptying them, and drag the statue out from under an old hood. Prize in hand, the feline walk back into the city, stopping by her house to collect her housecarl for help.

Heading down the stairs, Argis follow his sworn mistress, statue over shoulder. His steel boots clank loudly against the stone, in contrast to Yoake's nigh-soundless steps as she swears and curses said stairs to the deepest levels of Oblivion, and beyond. Entering the Temple as they come full circle, Argis hand the statue over to a grateful priestess, and walk towards the room where Mi'rasj still lies.

Casting a look on his barely standing Thane, Argis solve the problem of getting Mi'rasj to Vlindrel Hall by simply dragging the Khajiit's arms over his shoulders and lifting the him onto his back, grabbing under the male's knees to hold him in place. A tad undignified, and the black-striped male would have protested heavily… had he been awake. Herself, Yoake is far to worn out to do more than shake her head with a sigh and a grin, and follow her housecarl down and up even more stairs. ''When he gets well, we are going to Heljarchen Hall… where aren't so many… bloody… STAIRS,'' the feline mutter angrily to herself as she opens the door to her Markarth home, waving Argis toward her bedroom.

''Just… put him on my bed… then you are free the rest of the evening… night… whatever.'' "Yes ma'am," Argis says stoically while he gently puts down Mi'rasj on his belly. The recent exertion appears to have had no discernible effect on the Nord. As he moves towards the main door, he turns and looks back at Yoake with his usable eye. "I'll be at the Silver-Inn. Shout if you need me." His Thane is too tired to reply. She just nods at him, and Argis take his leave.

Yoake relaxes her spine, and limply falls backwards onto the comfy bed. She gazes over at Mi'rasj. He must be dreaming, for his eyelids, nose, and whiskers twitch regularly! The she-cat sighs, brings her feet up to her chest, and pulls off her boots, before remove the rest of her shrouded armour as well, throwing it all in a heap in the corner. She leaves her grey tunic and snug leather pants on, and pulls off his Forsworn boots and gauntlets.

"Heh! You know," Yoake says as she undresses the sleeping he-cat, "I think Argis thinks that I sent him away because we're up to "funny-business"... not like you're unconscious and I'm exhausted or anything...," throwing his gauntlets and boots in the corner at _his_ side. Mi'rasj only mumbles indiscernibly. Yoake scratches him behind his ear. "This time I'm afraid it's going to be _you_ that will have to sleep in your armour, kitty-cat! It's both too late and too cumbersome for me to safely unequip it... hhhfff..."

With a worn-out smile, she lays down beside the male, her back towards him. They both lie atop of the blanket, Yoake is just too tired to move her legs anymore. Mi'rasj' deep, rhythmic breathing become her lullaby, and she falls quick asleep, happy that the he-cat next to her appear to be stable.


	11. Tension

Disclaimer!

 **Chapter 11: Tension**

After an amount of time unknown to him, Mi'rasj awakens on his belly, and feeling immensely weak. His wounds are itching, it takes all his willpower not to scratch them, as Khajiit claws will quickly undo what healing has begun, if given the chance.

He turns his head to find Yoake sleeping next to him, on her side, her back to him: a pleasant sight. Because they both fell asleep atop of the blanket, he has full view of her womanly derrière, accentuated by her snug leather pants.

The he-cat feel a wave of heat vibrate through him. But he is also famished. Since he cannot sit up to get out of the bed, and it is too risky to roll over the side, he slides himself downward slowly but surely toward the end of the bed. He slides down with his face just inches away from Yoake's behind.

That is when he hit his kneecaps on the malevolent chest at the foot of the bed. " _Meowch! Krosis! Gzalzi..._ "

Awoken by the noise of Mi'rasj trying in vain to abstain from commenting on his hurting kneecaps, Yoake open one bleary eye. Her ear picks up Mi'rasj location, to her slight discomfort.

"What, exactly, are you doing?" The dumbstruck Khajiit remain where he is, his answer starting in a series of stutters and babbles, making the she-cat smile in a devious but inquisitive manner.

"Mir was just on his way to get some food. Really." The discomfort in his voice just made it all even better.

Yoake rolls over onto her back, looking down on the male's awkward face. "And I assume you planned on the food being at floor-level, seeing as that's as high as you can reach right now?"

"Mir thinks he can at least limp. Maybe walk. And his arm is fine... he will have no difficulty getting to the food on the top shelves. If he can stand up straight."

Yoake sighs, dragging one hand over her face. She then points at Mi'rasj' face: "You... are a stubborn cat. Get back in bed, idiot!"  
With an annoyed but caring roll of her blue eyes, the spotted she-cat rise and walk to the kitchen, while Mi'rasj drags himself back to the bed headboard. Yoake gathers different dried and smoked meats, and fish. Grabbing plates, two tankards and some mead, she pads back to the bed, where the he-cat is lying on his belly with a strange look. "What," the she-cat asks him.

"Mir does not know if he can, or should, lie on his back. And it will be difficult eating and drinking on one's belly."  
"Hmmm... that's a problem, indeed..." Yoake's tail twitches thoughtfully. "What if Mir was to lay on his side, that would be better, right?"

"Hhhh, that would work. I'm sorry, this one is too tired to think straight." Yoake places the food and drink gently on the bed, and sits back against the headrest. Mi'rasj groans while putting himself on his right side, facing the female feline.

"Oufh... it feels like Mir has been sleeping for an entire era," picking up a chicken breast and eyes it. He then devours it almost whole. "Mhm! Mir loves breasts" he says slyly, while smiling to himself. _"...that's... good to know_ ," Yoake thinks while sipping from her tankard. "You only slept for half an era, not much have changed. Dragons are still about, the Stormcloaks and the Legion are still fighting, and Markarth still has too many stairs."

"Hhhh... the stairs... but what _has_ changed, then?" the he-cat asks, taking a swig of his mead-filled tankard. "Weeell... you can't run or jump, or do anything strenuous for a week. Also, I owe you my life."

"If Mir remembers correctly, he saved Yoake from drowning, no? Also... define strenuous," Mi'rasj says with a grin and a tilt of his head. The spotted she-cat takes a bit of a chicken leg and nods.  
"You did, and I'm grateful for that. But I can't let you do something stupid that will hurt you... before you're all healed, at least. And strenuous as in take things easy and don't use those muscles too much." Mi'rasj smiles in self-reflection. "Stopping Khajiit in doing something stupid will be difficult," he says. "Shall Mir mute his brain or his heart?", downing his tankard of mead.

"Mute the brain, that's the one giving you ideas," Yoake says, smiling into her cup. "If Mir mutes his brain, he can only follow his heart... and instincts...", the he-cat replies while shifting slightly in the bed, reaching for a bottle of spiced wine. Yoake shakes her head with a grin. "...mute your brain, not your logic! Besides... haven't you managed well so far without thinking?" Yoake swish her tail in amusement and hide her even wider grin behind her rabbit leg.

Mi'rasj cocks an eyebrow, then puts on a warm smile. "Heheh, flea-bag thinks more than Yoake knows! He has a lot of ideas, some of them good... like when Mir-"  
Yoake reach out to ruffle his many braids, and uses her keen Khajiit eyes to examine the scalp at a distance. She does so in both a serious and affectionate manner, still grinning. "Still no fleas, this one do not understand why you refer to yourself as a flea-bag..."

The he-cat frowns, looking distant, but rather suddenly serious.  
"... when Mir had to save Yoake from drowning. He did not know what to do on instinct. He remembered a distant memory. Had Mir not been there that day to see the accident... then this minx would be... dead. ''Flea-bag" is just a phrase conceived by Mir to emphasize his worse side - to use when he is, or put in, a _seemingly_ bad light. Heh... the fleas must all have drowned in the underground river..."  
Yoake's face become serious, curious, as well as concerned, as her hand shifts from ruffling to stroking caringly. "What do you mean by " _accident_ "? Do you want to talk about it?"

Mi'rasj sighs in resignation. When he recounts, his eyes drop down, gazing unfocused on the plates and remains of food between them.  
"Mir knew how to save Yoake because when he was 5 summers old, he saw an old Khajiit fall in the main river of Riverhold.  
She stood on one of the bridges, leaning over the wooden railing and watched the small fish in the stream, going about their business. Then the railing suddenly broke under her weight, and she fell in the deep. She could not swim. Mir frantically cried for help, and a huge Cathay-raht dove in and lifted her up to the waiting villagers on the bridge. The Cathay-raht then held her by her legs over the bridge, and all the water came gushing out... this is how Mir knew what to do.  
He had no bridge, so he had to manage with his thigh."

"A Cathay-raht? It has been a long time since I last saw a raht-Khajiit.  
Hearing that make me long from the warm sands of home. All these Nords and Elves all look the same, they are not guided our dear moons, and understand not their importance. The two of us are lucky like that, not many Khajiit know how to swim, we are beings of the dry sands and jungles, after all... and your thigh make a good bridge!" punctuating her remark with a tap on his outermost thigh.

"Cathay-raht are an impressive sight. Tall, strong, fast, with jaguar-like features." Mi'rasj starts to slowly pull on his whiskers, a Khajiit gesture indicating deep, philosophical thought.  
"Yes, neither men, mer, or those wet lizards understand our ways, and the impact the Moons have.  
Khajiit do what we do, aided by Them, and let the world be damned. It cannot be coincidence that Mir was there at that exact time, to learn such important knowledge, but not using it until almost 20 years later..." Mir leaves his whiskers alone. Yoake's fingers and claws are still caressing his scalp, making it tingle. He shudders, making the she-cat giggle softly. Mi'rasj takes a sip of mead, then looks at the female feline at his side. She looks remarkable! Her face is content, her eyes kind. Mi'rasj tries to swallow the lump in his throat. It is still present when he continues: "Mir thinks luck come from the Moons. Tonight, they are both shrinking. That means new dangers, conquests, and Cathay-raht..."

Mi'rasj flexes his outer leg, tracing a claw over his tense thigh. "Heh, yes, Mir's legs _are_ sturdy... he did a lot of walking and running, before. These days... Arvak absorb his muscles, haha!"  
The he-cat chuckles, and Yoake laughs with him with a jovial trill, tugging on one of his braids.

"If Arvak absorb your muscles, he would have more of them. But seeing how skinny he is, it's more like he wears them away!"

"Pulls them out of Mir, yes! Hahah..." Mi'rasj is now starting to feel the effects of the mead. His head is spinning. He rubs his face groggily and scratches his ear, then looks upon with intrigue the giddy she-cat still caressing him. "How is Yoake feeling? Is her head still hurting from the blow?" The spotted she-cat repeatedly taps her finger against his skull, asserting her opinion: "You just _had_ to ask... I was quite content _not_ thinking about my head. But if you truly want to know, it feels a bit like a horde of Orcs are trying to smash their way out... or like a dragon sat on it..." Yoake gets a thoughtful look on her face, and she has a distant look in her eyes, in the direction of the sitting room.

"You know... dragons around here are more like wyrms, they only have two legs. A true dragon has four..." Mi'rasj gets a little annoyed at the alluring female's finger prodding him, but he is too sated to make a fuss about it. He smiles instead.

"Heh! For Mir, it feels like a dozen Dwemer Centurions are pounding his head... their hammers will probably echo in his head tomorrow." The striped male tilts his head, looking down on the remains of their meal. "This one has heard legends of four-legged dragons, they could only breathe fire... can Aura Whisper help Yoake determine which of them are tormenting Skyrim?" Yoake catches on his somewhat annoyed expression that shows just before it gets replaced by his sated, sheepish grin. She leaves his head alone, and drop her arm, resting it between Mi'rasj' pillow and the side of his neck. Mi'rasj relaxes, and leans his head on her arm. She feels his heavy, steady heartbeat pulsating through her forearm, and the head of his skin spread to her hand, warming the blood in her now tired fingers.

"I'm afraid not. Aura Whisper can only tell me where the beast is. And it's not _that_ important, one only need to know that they are big, bad, breath elements, capable of flight, and want to eat us all!  
And if indeed there are bigger, four-legged dragons out there... I _don't_ want to meet _those_ , the wyrms of Skyrim are bad enough, thank you." Mi'rasj nods and rolls gently over on his back, leaning his head over the headrest at a comfortable 90 degrees, groaning meekly in the process. Yoake's arm is now pressed against his neck, resting on his shoulders. Though the gold rings in his braids are initially cold against her skin, they soon warm up. Mi'rasj head and torso are well on their way of being absorbed by the fluffy pillows, though Saviour's Hide is dangerously close to poking a hole in the fine, smooth fabrics. " _Hoohh..._ by Masser,that was good... Mir thanks this one for her pampering... he is not bleeding, is he?''

The she-cat at his side reluctantly pull her arm free, and reach over, moving all the plates, platters, and tankards she can reach to the floor. With that done, she slides down to lie comfortable on her side, facing Mi'rasj.  
"What was good? The food or me stroking your hair? _Hmm_ , you're not bleeding as far as I can see, but your armour is about to destroy my best bed sheet and pillows, you hairball!" Mi'rasj has still has the sated, sheepish grin on his content face. His eyes are tired, but warm.

"The food was _splendid_ , but the root-massage felt like Mir ingested Moon Sugar! _Ahhh_ , the phollicles twitched and pulsated in waves... _magnificent_." Mi'rasj shifts slightly. "If Mir's armour is destroying the bed and its contents, we should get him out of it... but it will be too risky for him to take it off alone. Besides, he is probably too weak, as well." Yoake smiles to herself from the feedback, but then she realizes what her companion just said. "...how do you know it's like Moon Sugar? And are you saying that I should... aid you in undressing...?" The stupefied she-cat looks down, and fiddles with a loose thread on her grey tunic, deeply relieved that fur hides blushing, no matter how hot her face feels. Mi'rasj smirks.

"Let's just say that when Mir was in his youth... he... _experimented_ quite a bit. How did Yoake think he got so good at alchemy? Heh!"  
As he finishes his explanation, Mi'rasj takes a closer look at the female, wanting to determine Yoake's state of mind. Her befuddlement amuses him. "Oohh, what is this? Yoake is blushing, no? Mh, heh, Mir knows! You are female, my fine minx, and females work the same regardless of species!" Determinately ignoring her blushing, Yoake place her hands behind her head, and stares at the grey roof.

"Experimenting with alchemy? How are you still alive and in possession of both your tail and fur? The most dangerous thing _I_ did was see how far up the trees I could climb, and even _that_ was enough to give my father grey fur..." The amused he-cat decides to give her some emotional respite, simmer down and regain her composure, by recounting the alchemical feats of his youth.

"Mir was careful, which is _actually_ possible. Khajiit ingest Moon Sugar in small amounts almost every day, we use it in our food, on it for seasoning, in our desserts... but Mir always craved... more. Heh. A sweet-tooth even among sugarcane-lickers... Mir's mother must have been saturated with crystallized moonlight! So, he made some in his spare time, by acquiring sugarcanes, and drawing Moon Sugar from them. He only made small doses with short effects, which he kept to himself. After trial and error for a few months, he had a decent... stash. Mir's parents didn't mind the refining, Moon Sugar is scarce in northern Elsweyr, and having a budding refiner in their hut was a thing to be proud of. Since Mir could do this almost self-taught, he gave potion-making a try. With this there was risk, so his parents kept their colours because they did not know about _this_ activity. He would only pull out his mortar and pestle when they were out of the hut. Mir never made Skooma, though. He abodes the law... for as long as he could."

Yoake listens to his account intently, refreshed to hear private stories from another Khajiit, an event that seldom happens. Having gathered herself, she dares to look upon the he-cat's face. The lines of Mi'rasj appealing face have become warm and soft in their features. He cocks his eyebrow, the raising brow inquisitive of, and waiting for, Yoake's reply. The short silence that follows is a little awkward, ushering the she-cat to respond, using her brain, but also, surprising herself, her heart. "Mir used to be a smart cub, apparently!" she says in a taunting tone. "... but true, you can never be too careful with things like that. I once agreed to help a friend with a potion, I think she was trying to make water-breathing mixture _not_ taste like... ufh... rancid mudcrab... that ended up with me seeing everything in green for nearly two days, hihihi!" Mi'rasj emits a brief but genuine laughter.

"Mir know what the minx is talking about. He would sometimes get strange... _reactions_ from his sampling. Error was indeed a part of the process..." The lynx-like Khajiit laugh loudly. Nibbling on her tongue to stop the laughter, she manages to push in a question between the convulses of her throat. "...why do I get the feeling your fur got... interesting colours?" The he-cat smiles and scratches his ear, this time in embarrassment.

"Heh. Because that actually happened... Twice. First this one's belly hair turned green, and his chest tuft yellow. The other time his back became blue! Mir never expected to have localized pigment alteration occur... he was quite surprised! Fortune smiled on him, though, and only made the changes last about an hour. But those were one of the most embarrassing incidents Mir has ever experienced! Almost as bad as that... " _situation_ " in Kolskeggr..." Mi'rasj rubs his face with his hand, blushing and grinning at his own mistakes.

"At least it was not made permanently **pink**!" Yoake says with a snicker. "... that would have been _seriously_ embarrassing for you, my fine feline friend!" Mi'rasj laughs an awkward at the thought.  
"If _that_ had happened, Mir would shave off _all_ his fur and go to live in the desert, like the naked-cats of legends, hahahah!" Yoake blink at the male sharing her bed for a moment, before covering her face with her elegant hands, laughing and blushing again. "Dear Mother, what a horrible, horrible mental image you gave me! I could have gone my whole life without picturing a furless Mi'rasj..." The cat in mention grins heartily. "Hehe, but now Yoake has it, for better, or for worse!" Still clutching her face, Yoake utter "all I see is a Khajiit with the skin of a Nord... it's enough to give one nightmares!"

Yoake's vivid imagination, able to conjure such a mental image, interests the he-cat. "Oufh yes, not exactly a sight sent from Mara, eh? Heh." The feline female shudders, and starts to massage her temples. "Not a vision from Mara, indeed...though maybe one from Vaermina? She is certainly one for nightmares... that reminds me, what does this one say we go to the Pale?" Mi'rasj nods in agreement. "Vaermina _does_ like to meddle with our heads. Hn, the Pale? To Dawnstar?" "Yes." Yoake stops rubbing her temples, and start to count on her fingers.

"For one, I still have a contract to hand in, second, there is my homestead, Heljarchen Hall. A house with its own stables and all that good stuff! And a lot less stairs..." The brown-furred hand of Mi'rasj slowly tugs on his whiskers in a philosophical manner. "Hmm... Yoake's house sounds tempting to Mir... did she design it after her own head?"

"Mostly," she says, smiling. "It's unfinished though, I'm still working on the kitchen. Perhaps you'll have some ideas for it?"  
"Mir _should_ come with ideas! If Heljarchen Hall would only be decorated according to Yoake's head, it would be empty, haha!  
Mi'rasj receives a slap on the arm for the quip. Though his smiling face make Yoake smile as well. She tries to assert herself in a serious tone. "Ha, ha, very funny. Should I tell you what happened to the _last_ jester I met?" Mi'rasj tilts his head, thinking about the possibilities the... _eccentric_ , bad side of Yoake could be capable of. "Did this one chop off his reproductive organs and made him eat them?"

"Yes. Then I removed his head. _His_ name was Cicero..." "Oh." The he-cat is actually speechless for a little while. "Mir will have minx know she will have greater difficulty achieving this on a fellow Khajiit, because Mir's " _tools_ " are retractable." Yoake raises one eyebrow, and tilts her head. "Oh? I thought only Frost Trolls could do that. Then I assume I need not tell you that I also dug out his heart, cut his body into pieces and set fire to the remains?" Mi'rasj holds up one of his fingers. "Male Khajiit can also do this. It is to prevent snagging on the trees, cliffs and buildings we often climb in Elsweyr... but, in cold climate, this "ability" helps the tools to stay intact and functional."

Yoake give him a sceptical look. "Uhuh... this one know I am Khajiit as well, yes? I'm pretty sure I would know the "abilities" of my own kind." "Of course Mir does, minx! But this one did not know of this ability in male Khajiit. This is new to her."  
The he-cat sighs, and continues: "When it is time for a he-cat and a she-cat to mate, this ability is clearly demonstrated. Is Yoake saying that she is... _inexperienced_ with this... _event_?" The eyes of the lynx-like Khajiit narrow a bit. ''No, I'm saying I believe you are the only Khajiit with this ability, I for one, have never seen or heard of it before!" The he-cat opposite of her frowns, while blushing.

"Oh? Is that so? Hm! Sounds like Mir is special in more ways than he thought... is Yoake... _curious_?"

"A tad," she smiles. "...but you have _orders_ not to do _anything_ strenuous for a week, at least."  
"Indeed, this one should not exert himself... but what if _someone_ did the necessary strenuous action... _for_ him?" "Considering that you were shot in the bum... that would be painful." "If Mir was to move around, yes. If he were to lie still, however, he thinks all would be well." Yoake give him her dead-pan look. "I think _you_ need to think... because no matter what you do, there would be weight _and_ pressure."

"If the one who applies the weight and pressure were to use the "Become Ethereal" Shout, this challenge would no longer exist."

"Because the one that used the Shout cannot be touched... and could not touch the other?"  
"The Shout only make it so that the Shouter cannot harm or be harmed. Also, their stamina would not drain, and they would still have physical shape! Because of these things, Mir still thinks his idea will be both possible _and_ free of pain."

"Cannot harm or be harmed. And seeing as it would harm, the Thu'um would not allow it."  
"The Shout would stop them from harming _intentionally_ , yes. But also _unintentionally_? Mir doubts that."

"I don't think the Shout care if it's intentional or not, it will simply prevent its user from harming or being harmed." Mi'rasj sighs, and pull on his whiskers again.  
"Then what about using "Slow Time" to make the most out of the act... for the Shouter at least?" Mi'rasj only receive a dead-pan look in return. The moment draws on. "Well?"

Yoake sighs, and smiles. "You're hopeless, you know that, Mi'rasj?" "Hopeless, but hopeful! Besides, under the effect of Slow Time, the user will have more time to think about what they are doing, and making sure they are not harming the... "victim"."  
"Eehh... how about we wait until you are well? It's much more... fun... then." But the he-cat's hormones are now flailing about, ruining his logic, laying waste his reasoning. " **Impossible**! Mir cannot wait _that_ long! He has been close to rupturing for _days_! The other female Khajiit are busy with the caravans! Tonight, Masser and Secunda will yield a mighty Cathay-raht!" Yoake's ears angle themselves down and backwards at the scene in the bed. "I am very close to knocking you out with a frying pan, hairball," she says bluntly. The uneasy he-cat stop flailing his arms, and sighs in resignation. "Mir is sorry, he is overreacting," he mutters in a sad, gravelly voice. " _Thjizzrini_. There must be something in his blood. Or brain. Or heart. Something they gave him at the temple."

" _Or_ ," Yoake says, in a softer tone, "perhaps he's just lost too much blood for his brain to function as it should!"  
The silence that follows expresses Mi'rasj' shame.  
"Mir bled for a long time, no? And it doesn't help that what remains of his blood is going other places than the brain."

"The Gods were cruel," the she-cat says forgivingly. "They gave men two heads, but only enough for one to function at a time..." Mir chuckles and smiles, and slightly shifts in the bed.  
"Fortunately, they do not need to use both heads at the same time!"

"You sure about that?" Yoake tries not to laugh at the now milder face of Mi'rasj, all eager and hopeful again. "Mir guarantees it. Which means if Yoake want him to shut his mouth for tonight, she either need to hit him in the head with said frying pan, or... make his "other head" even more... _interested_." Yoake reaches down for one of the empty platters, and study it with unnecessary fascination before hitting Mi'rasj on the head with it. " _Meowch_!" "I'm too lazy to go and get a frying pan... and I rather not damage your brain, it's rare to find one _this rarely_ used!" Hurt both physically and emotionally, after a brief, but sad look at the cruel but well-meaning Khajiit by his side, Mi'rasj slides down from the pillows and carefully lays down on his side, with his back toward Yoake.

The feline female cannot help to think that she went a bit far. She puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
"Poor Mir... would it help if I let you use my lap as a pillow?"  
Although Yoake cannot see it, Mi'rasj' eyes pops wide open, and almost out of their sockets. "Wh-wha- _what_ did you say?"  
Yoake must bite her tongue to keep herself from bursting into laughter! She finds his bewilderment hilarious as well as lovable. The spotted she-cat rearranges the pillows against the headboard to be able to lean back more comfortably. "I said "would it help if I let you use my lap as a pillow", though if the answer is yes, I have to ask you to get rid of the armour first. My _linens_ are _one_ thing, but I'd rather not get holes in my legs..." "Mmjes, Mir thinks it would help both his body and soul, if Yoake would be so generous." Yoake drape her blanket around her form, and nestle herself deep into the comfy pillows. "I'm _all_ ready for you, Mir..."

"Would this one please help Mir with his armour?" Yoake emerges from her soft place of rest. "Stay like that for a bit," she says, and undoes the buckles holding the two halves of the armour together. She notices Mi'rasj' breath is a little fast, it seems his body is focused on something else entirely. "There! Now for the other side. Lie on your belly, please." Mi'rasj puts himself on his stomach, and Yoake starts unfastening the other side. She had to lean on his back to reach the buckles, and as expected, her bust came to rest atop of his back, something Yoake had mixed feelings about. Buckles opened, she pushes the armour off him, at the same time as Mi'rasj pushes himself up using his arms, and use his right to shove the other half out of the way.

They end up, much to Yoake's amusement, crossing each other, with her midsection resting on his lower back, just over the hem of his loincloth. Spontaneously, Mi'rasj relaxes his arms, then push himself back up, making an exercise of the situation. He then begins to laugh at the absurdity of it all, shaking with part laughter, part strain. Yoake, still laying atop of him, laugh with him as well, bobbing up and down from the repeated clenching and relaxing of her abdominal muscles.

"Woah, easy there, raht!" Yoake exclaims when the he-cat below her reaches a handful of repetitions. "I'm pretty sure this qualifies as "strenuous"!" Mi'rasj heed her words. Relaxing and staying down, he allows Yoake to dismount safely. She affectionately taps the panting he-cat on his nearest arm. " _Gzalzi_!"she exclaims, when she's once again nestled in her spot. " _Vaba_!'' Mi'rasj agrees as he regains his composure. "That certainly got the blood flowing! But... since this one _insists_ it is time for napping..."

The she-cat deftly grabs the corner of her blanket, and drape it over her once again. "My lap is ready," she says in a tone unknown to Mi'rasj, and taps her blanket-covered thigh. He frowns for a split-second, unsure of her intentions, but he carefully drag himself over to her nevertheless. Mi'rasj places his weary head in her lap facing her.

"Mir would prefer to look upon Yoake when he awakens, rather than the cold, empty room, if she doesn't mind" The woman in question reach down and scratch his chin, making Mi'rasj close his eyes reflexively. "I don't mind that at _all_ , Mir. In fact, I'm honoured that you would rather look upon _me_ than the room." The he-cat flick his beige tongue at the female's quip, then starts to purr as she switches from scratching his chin to stroking his hair. Mi'rasj' throat vibrates in a rhythmic, pleasant manner, and Yoake feel his purring resonate in her entire nether region. When she bends forward, to redo the handful of braids that came apart during their adventure, she feels the purring even stronger. It becomes a satisfying lullaby, and Yoake feels the claws of sleep tugging at her. She is unable to finish all the braids-to-be, before she must lay back to sleep in an acceptable position. When sleep conquers her shortly, Mi'rasj' purring is still going strong.

Gzalzi: Absurd

Vada: It is

Thjizzrini: Foolish consept


	12. No more stairs!

Adventure of Two Khajiit

Chapter 12: No more stairs!

A week came and went as Mi'rasj healed from his wounds. The first few days was filled with the male trying to do things he not yet should do, and Yoake threatening him back to bed with whatever she had at hand, including a ladle, a sword, and a bundle of herbs.  
Things got a bit more peaceful after the fourth day, when the he-cat's behind was improved enough for him to stand, and he thus were allowed to indulge in the alchemy lab. Something that, while it kept the honey-furred Khajiit from having to coerce him into resting, _did_ result in a few minor explosions, as well as a more... colourful incident, one which left Mir with a shockingly pink tail-tip for the better part of a day.

That is not to say no adventures were had, though they were unintentional. Wanting to get out of the house, mostly to avoid having her fur getting interesting colours, Yoake decided to investigate a crime that, admittingly, had happened some time ago.  
The murder of a woman named Margret in the marketplace. Yoake had seen the murder herself, and been asked by a man, with rather impressive facial tattoos, who said his name was Eltrys, to investigate the murder. And now she had the time on her hands to do so.

At the beginning the whole thing seemed rather straight forward. The sneaky she-cat had checked the room Margret had rented at the Silver-Blood Inn the same day the woman had been killed, but Yoake had never gotten closer to solving the mystery of _why_. Now, after actually reading the journal and the note she found in the warrens where the murderer, Weylin, had lived, things got more complicated.  
The trail of clues lead her to Nepos the Nose, who admitted he had directed the killing, under orders from the King in Rags, Madanach himself. At which point, the wizened old administrator's household apparently decided the she-cat had heard enough, and attacked, forcing her to flee.

Returning to Eltrys, who was waiting at the Shrine of Talos, she found him killed. The culprits were most likely the city guards "investigating" the room, probably waiting for her. As soon as Yoake stepped closer, the guards accused her of snooping around, which she was guilty of, and framing her for the murders of both Margret and Eltrys, something the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood had to work hard to keep from laughing at. She had, after all, committed many murders, including the Emperor himself, but she ended up in jail for a killing she had not done! The guard did not even know who they had caught.

Thrown into the infamous Cidhna Mine, and stripped of all her possessions, the crafty feline immediately set to work finding Madanach, who Nepos had said was in the prison mine somewhere, still leading the Forsworn by unknown means. While she did not like the Forsworn, and had not forgiven them for shooting Mi'rasj, their King was for the moment her best chance at getting out.

Yoake had to perform several menial tasks to get to eventually see the old man, and finally proving herself to him by, of course, assassinating one of the other inmates. The killing did not feel justified to her like the contracts she got from the Night Mother did, since the only reason Madanach wanted him dead was that the poor man was the only one who had not sworn loyalty to the Forsworn and were thus suspected to be a spy. Yoake knew she would carry the guilt of his murder to her grave. But she had to get out.

All in all, she was out by sunrise, without having to swear fidelity to the Forsworn, though Madanach promised that word of her aid would be spread among the Forsworn camps and they would not attack. One of the others had even gotten her belongings. It could not have been easy to raid the chest with the prisoner's belongings, and not get tempted to steal her Blade of Woe or septims, but as Yoake went through her pouches and pockets, she found to her relief that nothing was missing. "Now... what route to take out of here..."

Earlier, Mi'rasj had soon heard that his dear companion had been arrested, and later on imprisoned, the act impossible to keep quiet, seeing as she was the Thane of Markarth. He knew that she would manage to get out within 24 hours, and that she would want to get out of Markarth as soon and as quickly as possible. Mi'rasj, after Argis went to the Jarl to discuss the terms of his thane's freedom the same evening, did some preparatory stretching, and went to gather their things, as well as various supplies, so that the two Khajiit's could make a hasty "holiday" away from the city they had both just about had enough with.

The he-cat first went to his side of Yoake's bedroom, stuffing his old canvas trousers into his haversack, as well as some extra loincloths. He picked up his dear book, Ahzirr Traajijazeri, from his ornate corner nightstand. There was no telling when he might return here, so he also went to the alchemy lab and recovered several potions of his own concoctions, useful for drinking or bartering.

"The minx will sacrifice Mir if he doesn't pack her bag with the same stuff that is in his bag. That means... clothes, underwear, potions, food, weapons... hhhh... but this is a clever tactical choice... since each of us will be able to support the other should they be separated from their bag."

Yoake had left Vlindrel Hall without much on her person, so after raiding the pantry for food and drink, Mi'rasj put down his haversack next to the entrance and went back to the bedroom. Her roomy bag was lying in one of the corners on her side of the room. In a few minutes it was starting to fill up with clothes, bundles of arrows of different types, as well as an assortment of daggers and Chillrend.

While placing several potions (including potions of water breathing) into the bag, Mi'rasj suddenly felt like he had to hurry. He paused, frowned, then, bringing Yoake's bag with him, hurried to the front door and peeked out. Judging by the position of the moon, it was around 3-4 in the morning, the ideal time to make a break for freedom, seeing as the guards would be at their sleepiest, and Markarth would be nearly devoid of people in its streets.

Mi'rasj made his way down some of the steps from Vlindrel Hall, and sure enough, mere moments after Mi'rasj' eyes adjusted to the near-darkness, he saw a familiar form with a tail stealthily emerging from the gaps between the entrance to the shrine of Talos and the back wall of the temple of Dibella. Yoake saw him, and he saw her. The he-cat wondered if his assumption of a hasty holiday was correct. He made a "rest?"-swoosh with his tail, to which Yoake swished her tail dismissively. Mi'rasj made a second gesture with his tail, "run?", to which the crouching she-cat reacted confirmatively. With that, he went back up to Yoake's house and got their packs, while the owner of the house climbed down and ended up by an overturned barrel outside the door to the Silver-Blood Inn, now closed.

Overhead, the she-cat heard Mir drop down a level, onto the stairs towards the northern corner of the market. That signalled Yoake it was time for her to move, so she started to jog towards the town's exit. In the corner of her eye, she could see the glowing red eyes of the Saviour's Hide approaching her side.

Together the two Khajiit went through the metal doorway, each delivering a swift kick to the helmet of the guards on either side of the outside wall, before jumping over the stairs and dashing to the stables. "When we ride, follow Mir! Quick route!", the he-cat said while they untied Arvak and Shadowmere. "Alright". After he threw Yoake her bag, they both mounted their otherworldly horses and set off in a canter, Mi'rasj first.

They rode on the stone road, but instead of going around the bend by the mountainside, the he-cat instead went straight ahead, through a gap in the wall barricades, and towards the short guard tower to the right. The wall towards the road was incomplete, and barely wide enough to comfortably fit a horse. After looking back for any pursuers as well as Yoake, Mi'rasj urged Arvak into a gallop, and after an impressive jump, the flaming skeletal horse landed in the middle of the road and slowed to canter. When he heard Shadowmere following suit, he set Arvak off into a gallop once more, knowing the large red-eyed stallion and his rider would have little difficulty catching up to them. By now the sky had glorious shades of orange. At the break of dawn, they left the great City of Stone, and rode out into the rising light. Before they reached the bridge, they slowed their horses to a trot, giving them time to wave a polite goodbye to the Khajiit caravan a stone's throw away on the road to the left.

As they trotted over the bridge and up the hill into the narrow valley, Yoake looked over her shoulder at Markarth one last time, quietly promising it would be a long time until she entered that stair-infested place again. Turning forward, she finds Mi'rasj grinning at her from atop of Arvak, a few paces in front of her. With a cheeky wink he shouts, ''Race to Reachcliff cave!'', then urges his undead mount into a gallop. The skeleton horse bounds off, leaving the black-clad female and her black stallion behind, only dust and the he-cat's distant laughter to keep them company. With a grin, Yoake tug at the rains, making the immortal horse rear up before chasing after, gaining ground with every stride until they are side by side as they thunder down the narrow mountain road, the sound of galloping hooves echoing between the steep mountain sides. Sending the glaring Khajiit a sly smile, the she-cat hunch down further on Shadowmere's back as the stallion easily takes the lead, a laughter escaping her as they continue up a path to the right, and over a river.

Turning her head, she yells back ''This one should know better than to challenge Tamriel's fastest horse to a race!'', only to find him having his eyes on somewhere other than the road. He replies, "Behind minx is not a bad spot to be!"

Yoake sighs, somewhat annoyed from being ogled at and the lack of compassion from her companion. Her annoyance is instantly cured however, as Mi'rasj knew the weight his words would bring. The he-cat shouts ahead:  
"Don't worry, we will talk in Reachcliff!"


End file.
